M 


UC>NRLF 


1 


^B    ETfl    7D3 


NO  PLAYS  EXCHANGED. 


Baker'3  Edition 
^  or  PLnY:5 

i 


BREEZY  POINT 


Price,  25  Cents 


COPYRIGHT,   1889.   BY   WALTEK   H.   ttMttkLK   &  CO. 


B.  W.  Pinero's  Plays 

Price,  50  eent$  €aeb 

THF  A  M  A  7nN^  Farce  in  Three  Acts.  Seven  males,  five  f  e- 
IIII^  t\liLt\Li\Ji^tJ  niales.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  not 
difficult.     Plays  a  full  evening. 

THE  CABINET  MINISTER  Si,  'L^'^n^l  S" 

tumes,  modern  society ;  scenery,  three  interiors.  Plays  a  full  evening- 

nANHY  niPir  rarceln  Three  Acts.  Seven  males,  four  fe- 
i//\iiLrl  I/IvIV  males.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  two  inte- 
riors.   Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 

THF  C  kV  I  HRn  nUFY  Comedy  in  Pour  Acts.  Fourmales, 
IIli:tU/\l  L,\Ji\U  KlUluA.  ten  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
icenery,  two  interiors  and  an  exterior.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

HIQ  UniTQr  IM  nnnni  Oomeay  in  Four  Acts.  Nine  males, 
IlliJ  nyJKJOU  111  WnUCIV  four  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THF  HHRRV  UflPQIT  Comedy  in  Three  Acts.  Ten  males, 
inC  nVJDDl  nulVOlL  five  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery  easy.    Phiys  two  hours  and  a  half. 

IPfC  Drama  in  Five  AtfLs.  Seven  males,  seven  females.  Costumes, 
****»5    modern ;  scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

I  AHY  RniTWTfFITI  Play  in  Four  Acts.  Eight  males,  seven 
LitXU  I  DUUillirULi  females.  Costumes,  modern;  scen- 
ery, four  interiors,  not  easy.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

I  FTTY  ^i"^™*  '^^  Four  Acts  and  an  Epilogue.  Ten  males,  five 
**■-•*  *  *  females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery  complicated. 
Plays  a  full  evening. 

THF  MAnQTRATF  Farce  in  Three  Acts.  Twelve  males, 
inili  1TI/\U10 1 IV/\  1  £1  four  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  all  interior.    Plays  two  hours  and  a  half. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Walttt  ?|.  Pafeer  &  Companp 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


BREEZY  POINT 


A  COMEDY  IN  THREE  ACTS 


FOR  FEMALE  CHARACTERS  ONLY 


BY 

BELLE  MARSHALL  LOCKE 

AUTHOR  OF   "MARIE*S  SECRET,"    "THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE,  *  ETC 


/^a.^^//y<^,,A^^^ 


BREEZYPOINT. 


CHARACTERS. 


Aunt  Debby  Dexter,  Mistress  of  Breezy  Point 

Elinor  VB.xVil.t  of  unknown  parentage. 

AsHRAKL  Grant,  a  workhouse  waif. 

Mrs.  HarDSCRATCH,  with  business  propensities. 

The  Hardscratch  Twins,  who  ''never  tell  nothin\^'' 

Mkhitible  DooLlTTLE,  Manufacturer  of  Catarrh  Snuff  and  Bitters. 

Bernice  Vernon, 

Laura    Leigh,  Aunt  Debby  s  summer  boarders,  ftsshfrom  board- 

Edith  Norton,         '  ing  school. 

Clarice  Fenleigh. 

FaNTINE,  Miss  Vernon's  French  maid. 

Old  Clem,  the  gipsy. 

N.  B. — The  characters  of  the  Hardscratch  Twins  can  be  eliminated 
if  desired  to  shorten  cast. 

Costumes  of  the  present  day. 


Copyright,  1898,  by  Walter  H.  Baker  &  Co. 


BREEZY   POINT. 


PROPERTIES. 


Act  I.— Flowers  for  Elinor  and  Ashrael,  newspapers  on  toble» 
Sravelling-bags  for  girls,  letter  for  Ashrael,  dinner-bell  ready  off  left. 

Act  II. — Pan  of  water,  dish-cloth  and  dishes  for  Ashrael,  dish- 
towel  for  Fantine,  camera  for  Bernice,  drawing-portfolio  for  Clarice, 
two  tin  pails  for  the  twins,  bag  of  candy  for  Laura,  work  basket  with 
stockings  for  Aunt  Debby,  pan  of  pop-corn  for  Elinor,  carpet-bag, 
small  satchel,  band-box  and  umbrella  for  Miss  Doolittle,  glass  of 
lemonade  for  Elinor,  book  for  Ashrael,  dinner-horn  for  Elinor,  pan  of 
apples  and  knife  for  Aunt  Debby,  basin  of  water,  sponge  and  bandages 
for  Elinor,  baskets  for  Old  Clem,  glass  of  wine  and  crackers  for  Aunt 
Debby,  tomato  can  for  Laura,  letter  and  valise  for  Fantine,  large  bas- 
ket for  Elinor,  fan  for  Clarice. 

Act  III. — Camera  for  Bernice,  small  tin  box  for  Miss  Doolittle, 
basket  and  packages  for  Ashrael,  letter  for  Edith,  satchel  and  box  of 
roses  for  Aunt  Debby,  glass  of  wine  for  Ashrael. 


M  8960 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/breezypointcomedOOIockricli 


BREEZY  PQLNT. 


ACT  I. 


SCENE. — Sitting-room  at  Breezy  Point.  Table  R.,  with  books, 
fiewspapers,  etc.  Chairs  each  side,  with  hassock  L.  Couch 
L.  Small  table,  with  lamp,  at  head  of  couch.  Easy-chair 
by  table.  Bookcase  up  L.  Easel,  with  picture,  up  R.  Door, 
with  portieres  c.  Elinor  at  table  R.,  Ashrael,  l.  of  table, 
discovered,  arranging  flowers. 

Elinor.  There,  Ashrael  !  {Holding  up  bouquet.)  This 
will  do  for  the  front  chamber.  You  say  that  you  have  filled  the 
vases  for  the  other  rooms  ? 

Ashrael.  Yes,  Miss  Elinor,  I've  put  narsturtimums  in  the 
room  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  sweet  peas  in  the  corner  room, 
an'  a  mixter  in  the  back  chamber. 

Elinor.     A  what  ? 

Ashrael.  A  mixter.  Bein'  as  you're  goin'  to  put  that  fur- 
rin  maid  in  that  room,  I  thought  a  mixed  bokay  would  be 
more  'propriate  for  her. 

Elinor  {laughing).  You  always  had  a  nice  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things,  Ashrael. 

Ashrael.  Yes,  I'm  might  pertickler  about  things  fittin' ; 
an'  speakin'  of  that  makes  me  think,  my  red  bask,  that  Miss 
Cuttin'  made,  fits  like  all  possessed.  I  can  turn  'round  twice  in 
it  ;  an'  there  ain't  much  chance  of  fattin*  up,  bein'  as  you're 
goin'  to  have  a  house  full  of  summer  boarders,  every  one  of  'em 
high-falutin'  girls,  who'll  want  some  one  to  dance  attendance 
on  'em  from  mornin'  till  night. 

Elinor.  Bring  your  waist  to  me  to-night,  after  supper, 
Ashrael,  and  I'll  fix  it  for  you.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  speak  so 
of  the  young  ladies  who  are  coming  to  stay  with  us.  You 
know,  as  well  as  I,  Ashrael,  that  there  is  a  heavy  mortgage  on 
Breezy  Point,  and  it  something  is  not  done  to  meet  the  payments, 
dear,  patient  Aunt  Debby  will  have  to  leave  the  only  home  sn^ 


6  BREEZY    POINT. 

ever   knew.     She  has  been  so  good   to  you  and  me,  Ashrael, 
surely  we  want  to  do  what  little  we  can  to  help  her. 

Ashrael  (piping  her  eyes  on  apron).  You  make  me  feel 
meaner'n  pusley,  Miss  Elinor.  Course  I  wants  to  do  all  I  can, 
but  it's  in  my  blood  to  grumble,  an'  I  can't  help  it  to  save  my 
life  !  Forgot  ?  Well,  I  guess  I  hain't  forgot  how  Miss  Dexter 
took  me  out  of  the  poorhouse  five  years  ago,  and  how  you've 
both  been  a-doin'  for  me  ever  sence.  I'll  make  you  proud  of 
'm^spme  d^y  ;  see  if  !  don't ! 

'  Blin07\.  '•*!  lidfpe  so*  Ashrael. 
,  .A5HRAE,L...  yes,  sir-ree  !  I'm  still  aspirin',  an' them  work- 
house, imps,  wKo  used  ta  call  me  "Ashes,"  will  find  there  was 
a  spark  left  in* 'em,  that'll  make  a  blaze  one  of  these  days. 
There,  these  are  all  ready  now  an'  I'll  jest  have  time  to  put  'em 
on  the  bureaus  an'  sweep  the  front  piazza,  before  the  train  comes 
with  that  tribe  of  pesky — [rises)  er — with  the  young  ladies. 
{Aside.)     My  tongue  gets  longer  an'  sharper  every  day  ! 

[Exit  L. 

Elinor.  I'm  afraid  that  I  feel  something  as  Ashrael  does 
about  a  crowd  of  noisy  girls  invading  our  quiet  place  ;  but  if 
my  little  scheme  will  bring  some  money  to  Aunt  Debby,  and 
drive  that  careworn  look  from  hei'  sweet  face,  I'd  be  happy  in 
Bedlam.  [Rises. 

Aunt  Debby  {outside).  Vanilla  flavoring,  Bridget,  don't 
forget.  {Enters  L.)  Ah,  you  are  here,  my  dear.  I'm  a  little 
anxious  about  the  pudding,  for  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  Bridget 
is  the  experienced  cook  she  would  have  us  think  she  is. 

Elinor.  Sit  down  a  few  minutes.  Aunt  Debby,  and  get 
cool.  You  look  a  bit  "  flustrated,"  as  Ashrael  would  say. 
(Aunt  Debby  sits  l.  of  table  r.,  and  Elinor  takes  rose  from 
table.)  Isn't  that  a  beauty  ?  I  saved  it  for  you.  {Pins  it  on 
her  gown.)  We  have  a  few  moments  before  the  train  comes 
and  let's  compose  ourselves.  [Sits  on  hassock  at  her  feet. 

Aunt  Debby.  Ah,  Elinor,  I  fear  this  is  a  wild  scheme  of 
yours  ;  and  now  that  the  time  draws  near,  I'm  afraid  this  little 
place,  that  is  so  dear  to  us,  will  be  very  dull  to  those  gay  school- 
girls, 

Elinor.  It  will  be  perfectly  delightful  to  them,  Aunt  Debby, 
mark  my  words  !  Just  think  what  a  humdrum  life  they  must 
lead  at  Madame  Fmikin's  city  boarding-school,  and  what  a 
delight  these  big  meadows,  the  grove  and  the  lake  will  be  to 
them  ! 

Aunt  Debby.     Yes,  I  know,  but 

Elinor.  "  But  me  no  buts  !  "  Two  of  the  girls'  parents 
have  gone  abroad  and  they  couldn't  go  home  ;  one  of  them  has 
money  enough  to  buy  friends,  to  be  sure,  but  the  poor  thing 
hasn't  a  living  relative  in  the  country  \  and  the  other  can't  g^o  to 


BREEZY   POINT.  ^ 

her  home,  because  there  is  scarlet  fever  in  the  house.  The 
girls  wanted  to  be  together,  and  when  I  read  Madame  Finikin's 
advertisement  for  a  nice  summer  home  for  them,  I  knew  Breezy 
Point  was  just  the  place.  And  then  the  money,  Aunt  Debby, 
just  think  of  that !  We  can  meet  the  payment  on  the  mortgage 
in  the  fall  all  right. 

Aunt  Debby.  What  a  treasure  you  are,  Elinor,  and  what  a 
comfort  you  have  been  to  me  all  these  years  ! 

Elinor.  Sent  to  you  market-fashion,  Aunt  Debby.  I've 
pictured  you  many  times  finding  me  a  little  baby  in  a  basket,  at 
your  door.     Why  didn't  you  send  me  to  the  poorhouse  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  Because,  dear,  wTien  I  pulled  the  blanket 
aside,  you  raised  your  tiny  arms  to  me  and  smiled  ;  and  from 
that  moment,  even  before  I  lifted  you  from  your  rough  nest,  you 
had  crept  into  my  heart  and  I  loved  you. 

Elinor.  I  know  it,  Aunt  Debby,  I  am  sure  of  it,  for  I  have 
never  felt  the  loss  of  a  mother's  love,  only 

Aunt  Debby.  Only  you  want  to  know  who  that  mother  was, 
dear,  I  understand  ;  but  there  was  no  mark  but  the  name 
Elinor  on  your  blanket.  Then  I  called  you  Elinor  Pearl, 
because  you  are  the  little  pearl  I  found  !  There  was  nothing 
to  serve  as  a  clue  ;  but  you  came  from  no  poor  place,  Elinor, 
for  your  clothing  was  of  the  richest,  finest  quality. 

Elinor.     Ah,  why [J^is^^s. 

Aunt  Debby,  There,  there,  child,  dismiss  it  from  your 
mind.  Eighteen  years  have  gone  since  then,  but  some  day  I 
feel  that  the  mystery  will  be  cleared,  and  in  the  meantime  you 
have  me,  my  dear. 

Elinor  {throwing  arms  about  her  neck).  Yes,  I  have  you  ! 
and  I  ought  to  be  the  happiest  girl 

AsnKK^l.  {showing  girls  in  C).  Right  this  way.  They've 
come.  Miss  Dexter. 

\Bus.for  Ashrael  examining  girls  curiously ,  tossing 
head  at  French  maid^  etc. 

Bernice.  This  is  Miss  Dexter,  I  presume.  I  am  Bernice 
Vernon,  and  these  young  ladies  are  Clarice  Fenleigh,  Edith 
Norton  and  Laura  Leigh. 

[Aunt  Debby  shakes  hands  with  all  of  the  girls  as 
they  are  introduced. 

Aunt  Debby.  You  are  welcome  to  Breezy  Point,  and  I 
hope  you  will  be  happy  with  us.  This  is  my  niece  Elinor 
Pearl,  and  I  am  sure  she  joins  me  in  bidding  you  welcome. 

Elinor.  Indeed  I  do  !  and  I  hope  you  will  like  this  place 
one-half  as  well  as  we  do. 

Bernice.     I  am  sure  we  shall  like  it. 

Edith.  We  have  been  in  ecstasies  over  the  scenery  all  the 
way  from  the  station. 


8  BREEZY   POINT. 

Aunt  Debby.  And  now,  as  you  must  be  tired  after  your 
journey,  you  will  want  to  go  to  your  rooms  at  once.  Ashrael, 
show  the  young  ladies  upstairs. 

Bernice  {as  the  girls  are  going  out).  This  is  my  maid, 
Miss  Dexter.  I  hope  it  iias  not  been  too  much  trouble  for  you 
to  accommodate  her. 

Aunt  Debby.  None  at  all,  my  dear,  we  have  plenty  of  room. 
(Ashrael  shows  them  out  l.)  A  bright,  pretty  lot  of  girls, 
Elinor  !     Maybe  it  won't  be  so  bad  after  all. 

Elinor.  Of  course  it  won't.  Aunt  Debby.  You  will  be  in 
love  with  every  one  of  them  before  a  week  is  over.  {Laughing.) 
Oh,  I  know  your  soft  heart ! 

Aunt  Debby.  At  any  rate,  you  occupy  the  softest  place  in 
it,  my  dear. 

Elinor.  And  I'm  going  to  try  and  keep  it,  I  give  you  fair 
warning  !     But  tell  me,  what  can  I  do  to  help  you  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  Not  a  thing,  only  look  after  those  girls,  if 
they  want  anything.  I  am  going  to  see  if  Bridget's  getting  on 
all  right  with  the  dinner,  for  I  know  they  must  be  hungry. 

[Exit  L. 

Elinor  {folding  newspaper,  arrangifig  table,  etc.).  Dear 
Aunt  Debby  !  She  is  always  thinking  of  other  people,  always 
trying  to  make  them  happy.  Why,  she  even  signed  her  home 
away  to  raise  money  to  save  a  worthless  brother  from  disgrace. 
Ah,  well,  he  is  dead  and  gone  and  so  is  the  money,  and  I  must 
try  and  use  my  wits,  as  well  as  my  hands,  to  save  this  dear  old 
place.  {Dropping  into  chair  L.  of  table.)  What  a  terrible 
thing  it  is  not  to  know  your  own  name  !  I  wonder  if  I  have  a 
mother  in  this  big  world,  and  why  she  thrust  me,  a  helpless 
child,  among  strangers.  I  look  at  the  veins  in  my  hands 
sometimes,  and  wonder  whose  blood  flows  in  them.  I  look  in  the 
glass,  and  long  to  know  if  my  face  is  like  my  mother's  ;  but,  most 
of  all,  I  want  to  feel  that  she  was  good  and  innocent !  And  yet  that 
doubt  is  always  in  my  mind.  {Buries  face  in  hands,  crying.) 
But  I  must  stop  thinking  !  How  wicked  I  am,  and  how  it  would 
grieve  Aunt  Debby  to  see  me  like  this.  {Rises.)  I'll  run  up- 
stairs and  bathe  my  eyes.  {Sound  of  girls  laughing  merrily.) 
How  happy  they  are,  those  girls  !  And  I'm  going  to  be  happy 
too  !  I'm  not  going  to  play  the  role  of  "  Aunty  Doleful,"  and 
if  I've  one  bit  of  energy  in  my  nature  it's  time  to  assert  it. 

{Exit  L.,  singing,  "  It's  better  to  laugh  than  be  sighing." 

Enter  Ashrael,  c. 

Ashrael.  There  !  I've  got  *em  located,  lugged  up  hot 
water  enough  to  drown  'em,  an'  now  I'm  to  wait  here,  ready 
to  be  at  their  beck  an'  call,  {sits  by  table)  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  do  it 
cheerful,  too,  'cause  I  said  I  would.     That  French  maid  jest 


BREEZY   POINT.  9 

makes  me  sick  !  I'll  let  her  know  she  can't  put  upon  me  !  1*11 
try  to  do  my  level  best  for  those  girls,  but  that  critter  has  jest 
got  to  keep  out  from  under  my  feet !  There's  one  good  thing 
about  it,  they  all  seem  to  like  the  place,  an'  their  rooms  suited 
'em  to  a  T.  I  couldn't  help  laffin'  to  hear  'em  rave  over  the 
scenery.  I  never  could  see  anything  so  awful  wonderful  about 
old  Mt.  Prospect ;  'tain't  nothin'  but  a  mountin  anyway ;  and 
Lily  Lake  ain't  much  to  look  at,  but  they  nearly  had  highstericks 
over  it.  I  heard  'em  a-plannin'  to  climb  Blueberry  Hill,  to- 
morrer,  to  get  a  view.  If  they'd  gone  up  there  berryin'  as  many 
times  as  I  have,  an'  scratched  themselves  'bout  to  death  an*  tore 
their  clothes  'most  off  'em,  they  wouldn't  be  in  such  a  rush  to 
try  it.  {/^tses.)  But  that's  always  the  way  !  Folks  that  /tas 
to  do  things  don't  want  to.  Goodness  gracious  !  there's  that 
letter  I  got  from  Billy  Griffin  this  mornin'  in  my  pocket  now, 
an'  I  hain't  had  time  to  read  it.  (Takes  it  out  of  pocket.) 
Billy's  well  enough  in  his  place,  but  I'm  lookin*  higher  than  to 
marry  a  butcher.  I'm  goin'  to  aspire  as  long  as  I  live  !  I  don't 
know  what  it'll  amount  to,  but  I'm  goin'  to  be  somethin'  ;  I 
hain't  decided  what  yet.  {Looks  at  letter.)  Dreadful  queer 
penman,  Billy  is.  I  hope  he  likes  his  place  over  to  Greggsville. 
It  was  an  awful  relief  to  get  him  out  of  here.  {Opens  letter  and 
reads  to  herself.)  Yes,  same  old  story  !  He's  fairly  dyin'  for 
love  of  me.  {Reads.)  "  I  shall  shoot  myself  before  the  year  is 
out  if  you  do  not  consent  to  be  my  lawful  wedded  wife."  He 
got  that  out  of  a  book  I  lent  him.  {Reads.)  "  My  blood  will  be 
upon  your  head."  His  blood  be  upon  my  head.  Well,  I  guess  not ! 
What  an  idea  !  I  'spose  butchers  always  write  kinder  bloody. 
Goodness  !  here's  that  P'rench  wriggler.  (Puts  letter  in  bosom:) 
She  makes  me  think  of  an  angle  worm. 

Enter  Fantine,  c. 

Fantine.  Oh,  you  are  here,  Ashreel. 

ASHRAEL.  Yes,  there  ain't  no  mistake  about  my  bein'  here! 
(Sits  R.  of  table.)     But  Ash-reel  ain't  my  name. 

Fantine.  Oh,  pardonnez  moi.  I  thinks  you  said  zat  was 
your  name. 

ASHRAEL.  No,  I  didn't  !     I  said  Ash,  A-s-h.  You  got  that? 

Fantine.  Oui,  Ash. 

ASHRAEL.  No,  we  ain't  Ash,  I  am. 

Fantine  (laughing).     Well  zen.  Ash. 

AsHRAEL.  R-a — ra  ;  do,  ra,  like  the  scale,  you  know. 

Fantine.  Ah,  yes,  ra. 

AsHRAEL.  E-l — the  ell  of  a  house,  you  know.     Ash-ra-el ! 

Fantine.  Ah,  I  haf  it  now — Ash-rah-eel ! 

ASHRAEL.  For    goodness'   sake,    don't    you   know    nothin' 


"10  BREEZY    POINT.  , 

scarcely?     It  jest  gives  me  the  shivers  to  hear  my  name  said 
wrong. 

FantinE.  Ah,  nevare  mind  such  a  leetle,  small  thing  as 
zat  !     You  like  zis  place  ? 

ASHRAEL.  Like  it  ?  Why,  I'm  dead  stuck  on  it !  I  got  my 
health  here. 

Fantine.     You  were  sick  ? 

AsHRAEL.  Well,  I  was  boarding  where  there  was  a  lot  of 
old,  helpless  people,  an'  it  kinder  affected  my  nerves,  so  I 
came  over  here,  an'  my  physician  said  I  must  help  round,  for 
my  health.     I  needed  exercise. 

Fantine.     It  seems  vera  quiet  here. 

AsHRAEL.  Well,  the  band  don't  play  every  day,  an'  the 
streets  ain't  crowded. 

Fantine.  I  lofe  ze  town,  where  I  can  go  to  some  dances  an* 
meet  some  zhentlemens. 

AsHRAEL.     Do  you  know  how  to  waltz  ? 

Fantine.     I  know  how  to  waltz  ?     Like  a  leetle  fairy  ! 

AsHRAEL.  I  kinder  want  to  learn  to  waltz.  It  might  come 
handy. 

Fantine.  I  shall  teach  you.  {Rises  and  goes  stage  centre,) 
Come  here,  Ashrael.  (Ashrael  on  her  right  j  Fantine  rais' 
ing  skirt.)  Place  your  toot  like  zis.  One  !  (Ashrael  places 
foot  awkwardly.)  Now,  two!  (Aswrael  imitates.)  Three! 
Now  take  your  skirts  like  zis  an' follow  me.  {Waltzing.)  'Tis 
vera  easy. 

Ashrael  {gazing  at  her).  Well,  if  you  think  I'm  going  to 
hold  my  dress  up  like  that,  show  my  stockings  an'  go  bobbing 
round  like  a  five-cent  top,  you'll  get  left.  I  don't  want  to  dance 
anyway  ;  it  hain't  dignified.  \^Sits  at  table  as  before. 

Fantine.  I  lofe  it  !  {Sits  l.  of  table.)  Oh,  Ashrael !  I 
breaks  so  many  hearts.  You  have  no — what  you  call  the  sweet- 
hearts, here  ? 

Ashrael.     Nonsense  !  the  woods  are  full  of  'em. 

Fantine.     In  ze  woods  !     What  for  do  they  go  in  ze  woods  ? 

Ashrael.  Oh,  I  mean  there  is  lots  of  'em.  Beaux  to  burn  ! 
I'm  bothered  to  death  with  'em. 

Fantine.     How  lofely  !     You  shall  gif  some  to  me. 

Ashrael.     Help  yourself. 

Fantine.     Tell  me  about  zose  sweethearts  ! 

Ashrael.  Well,  as  a  nation,  we  don't  brag  much  about  our 
beaux.     We  kinder  keep  still  about  'em. 

Fantine.  And  zat  lettare,  zat  leetle  billet-doux,  I  see  you 
hide  in  your  bosom,  is  zat  from  one  of  ze  beaux  .'' 

Ashrael  {aside).  I'll  bet  that  girl  has  got  a  row  of  eyes  all 
round  her  head  ;  but  for  the  land  sake,  how  did  she  know  his 
name  was  Billy  ? 


BkEEZY   POINT.  It 

Fantine.  You  speak  not,  but  I  see  ze  leetle  blush  on  your 
cheek  !     Ah,  tell  me  about  ze  lettare. 

ASHRAEL.  Well,  there  ain't  much  to  tell,  {loftily)  only  the 
writer  of  it  intends  to  shoot  himself  because  I  won't  have  him, 
that's  all. 

Fantine.  To  shoot  heemself?  How  gr-r-and !  I  should 
lofe  to  have  a  man  shoot  heemself  for  me. 

Ashrael.  I  can't  say  I  am  fussy  about  it ;  still  if  he's  bound 
to  do  it,  I  can't  prevent  him. 

Fantine.     Ceretainly  not !     It  would  be  vera  nice. 

Ashrael.  There's  one  thing  certain,  I  sha'n't  give  up  aspir- 
ing an'  marry  a  man  jest  to  keep  the  breath  of  life  in  him. 

Fantine.    Geeve  up  what  ? 

Ashrael.  My  high-born  asperations.  Don't  you  know 
what  them  be  ? 

Fantine.     No.    Je  ne  comprend  pas. 

Ashrael.     Oh,  talk  United  States  ! 

Fantine.  Pardonnez  moi,  I  know  not  what  you  mean  by 
asperasions. 

Ashrael.  I  mean  that  I'm  goin*  to  be  somethin'  great 
sometime  ;  I  don't  know  jest  what ;  I  ain't  decided.  {Rocks 
violently,)     I  may  be  an  opery  singer,  a  dancer 

Fantine.     No,  no,  I  thinks  not ! 

Ashrael.     Or  an  actor.    I  can't  tell. 

Fantine.  Ah,  you  mean  zat  you  will  study  to  be  some  great 
artiste  ? 

Ashrael.  I  don't  know  as  I  shall  be  an  artist.  I  can't  draw 
a  barn.  I  might  be  a  painter,  for  I  painted  the  fence  and  it 
looked  well ;  still  I  can't  tell.  I  don't  know  what  turn  my  tal- 
ents will  take. 

Fantine.  Where  is  the  man  who,  for  you,  will  shoot  heem- 
self? 

Ashrael.  He's  over  to  Greggsville.  He's  comin'  over  to- 
morrer  night,  an'  I'll  interduce  you  if  you  want  to  see  him.  He 
ain't  much  to  look  at,  but  he's  deep,  aiujul  deep. 

Fantine.     Ah,  I  shall  be  enchanted,  fasceenated. 

Ashrael.  You  can  try  all  your  French  tricks  on  him  that 
you're  a  min*  ter  ;  he  won't  even  look  at  no  girl  but  me.  He 
says  he's  "  loyal  to  the  heart's  core."  I  don't  know  how  fur  in 
that  is,  but  I  guess  it's  pretty  fur. 

Fantine.     What  is  he's  beesness  ? 

Ashrael  {rises  and  walks  L.).  Oh — he — he — dabbles  in 
blood,  cuts  and  slashes,  you  know. 

Fantine.     Ah,  I  see,  he  is  a  doctor. 

Ashrael.  Yes,  he  doctors  calves,  sheeps,  pigs,  an*  the  like, 
an'  when  he  gets  through  with  'em  they  never  have  another 
pain. 


ti  BREEZY   POINT. 

FantinB  (rising).  He  must  be  gr-r-and  in  hees  profession 
—a  vet-vet-erenerery  surzhon  ! 

ASHRAEL  {aside).  Ain't  she  a  greenhorn  !  I'll  put  a  flea 
in  Billy's  car  not  to  let  on  he's  a  butcher.  {Aloud.)  How  long 
have  you  been  livin'  without  work  ? 

Fantine.     What  you  say  ? 

ASHRAEL.     How  long  have  you  been  a  maid  ? 

Fantine.  Oh,  tree  year  ;  but  not  with  Mademoiselle  Vere- 
non  only  two  month.  Her  maid  got  married  an'  I  got  ze  posi- 
tion ;  but  I  will  get  married  also,  when  ze  chance  to  me  comes. 

AsHRAEL.  You'll  have  quite  a  chance  to  rest  before  it  arrives, 
I  reckon. 

Bernice  {outside).     Fantine  !   Fantine  ! 

Fantine.  She  is  calling  to  me.  I  will  see  you  some  more, 
when  it  is  later,  Ashreel.  [Exit  c. 

ASHRAEL.  Ashreel  !  That  makes  me  fightin'  mad  to  hear 
her  say  it  that  way  ;  but  it's  no  use  tryin'  to  learn  her  anything, 
her  head's  thick  as  a  board.  Ain't  she  got  a  soft  chance, 
though  !  Jest  to  comb  that  girl's  hair,  hook  up  her  dress,  an' 
little  jobs  like  that ;  then  she  lives  in  the  city,  an'  prob'ly  she'll 
^o  across  the  water  with  her  this  fall.  I  heard  'em  say  some- 
thing 'bout  it.  I'd  go  with  one  meal  a  day  the  rest  of  my  life, 
f  I  could  go  over  there  ! 

Enter  Clarice,  Laura  and  Edith,  c. 

Laura.  What  time  do  we  dine,  Ashrael  ?  I  believe  that  is 
your  name  ? 

Ashrael.  Yes,  miss,  you've  got  it  right,  for  a  wonder.  We 
flines  jest  as  the  clock  strikes  one.  [Exit  L. 

Laura.  "We  "  dines  at  one,  do  you  hear  ?  Come  on,  girls, 
let's  take  a  run  over  in  the  grove  yonder  !  Bernice  is  going  ; 
she's  getting  ready  now. 

Clarice.  I  do  not  think  I'll  go  out,  Laura,  until  after  the 
sun  goes  down.  My  head  is  trying  to  ache  and  I'm  pretty  sure 
it  will  succeed  if  I  give  it  half  a  chance,  {sits  on  couch)  but  you 
go,  Edith. 

Edith,  No,  I'll  stay  with  you.  Run  along,  Laura,  with  Ber- 
nice, and  find  all  the  pretty  nooks.  We'll  be  with  you  to-mor- 
row, sure. 

Laura.     All  right !     Take  care  of  your  head,  Clarice. 

Edith.  And  don't  you  fail  to  be  here  at  one  !  I'm  hungry 
as  a  bear. 

Laura.     ««  There  are  others  !  "     Don't  worry  ;  we'll  be  here. 

[Exit  c. 

Edith  {going  back  of  couch  and  rubbing  Clarice's  head), 
I  don't  like  these  headaches  ;  they  are  by  far  too  frequent 


BREEZY    POINT.  13 

Clarice.  Well,  as  a  steady  diet,  I  think,  myself,  they  arc 
not  satisfactory. 

Edith.  Why,  you  aren't  one  bit  like  the  merry  girl  you  were 
last  year.  I've  wished  a  dozen  times  that  you  had  gone  abroad 
with  your  parents.  Now,  I  was  just  crazy  to  go,  but  my  folks 
didn't  want  me,  and  you  were  urged  to  go  and  wouldn't.  All 
goes  to  prove  that  when  you  can  have  a  thing,  you  don't  want 
it,  and  when  you  can't  you're  crazy  for  it. 

Clarice.  You're  quite  a  philosopher,  Edith  ;  but,  seriously, 
I  didn't  go  abroad  because  I  hadn't  the  slightest  interest  in  it. 

Edith  {sitting  in  chair  L.,  near  couch).  You  have  no  interest 
in  anything,  that's  the  trouble.  Once  you  used  to  tell  me 
everything  that  worried  you,  and  now  1  know  that  something  is 
on  your  mind  and  you  won't  tell  me.      It  isn't  like  you,  Clarice. 

Clarice.     I  suppose  not  ;  nothing  is  like  mettiatlsay  or  do. 

Edith.  You  can't  be  worrying  over  your  studies,  for  you 
are  sure  of  graduating  in  a  few  months,  and  you  are  always  at 
the  head  of  your  class.  It  isn't  that  you  are  in  need  of  anything, 
for  you  are  fairly  loaded  with  the  good  things  of  this  world. 
Then  again  it  isn't  that  you  are  dissatisfied  with  yourself 
personally,  for  you  are,  most  assuredly,  the  girl  where,  as 
Hamlet  says,  "  every  god  did  set  his  seal."  It  must  be  that 
you're  in  love,  Clarice  ;  but  why  should  that  worry  you  ?  You 
never  yet  smiled  upon  a  masculine  specimen  that  he  didn't 
straightway  become  your  slave. 

Clarice.  I've  made  a  fool  of  myself,  Edith,  and  that's  all 
there  is  about  it ! 

Edith.  I  don't  believe  it,  Clarice,  you  haven't  the  right 
material  and  you'd  spoil  in  the  making.  But  now,  seriously, 
tell  me  truly,  dear,  what  ails  you,  {sits  on  couch  by  Clarice) 
and  maybe  I'll  find  a  way  to  help  you.  Just  wait  a  minute. 
{Cur h feet  under  her.)  There  !  Now  just  imagine  we  are  in 
a  play.  The  lights  are  down  and  the  big  fiddle  goes  zub,  zub, 
zub,  while  you  confide  your  secret  to  me.  Maybe  you  are 
crossing  the  proverbial  bridge  before  you  come  to  it. 

Clarice.  No,  I  am  not ;  I  have  got  half-way  over,  and  I 
can't  find  my  way  back,  and  I  won't  go  on.  There's  very  little 
to  tell,  Edith,  but  maybe  it  would  relieve  me  to  speak  of  it. 

Edith.     I  am  sure  it  would.     Go  on,  dear. 

Clarice.  Of  course  you  know  that  Charlie  Grierson  went 
away  suddenly,  last  winter. 

Edith.     What  of  that  ?    He'll  come  back. 

Clarice.  Well,  you  don't  know  that  I'd  learned  to  care  very 
much  for  him. 

Edith.     No ! 

Clarice.  Yes ;  and  matters  had  gone  so  far  that  he  had 
asked  me  to  marry  him. 


14  BREEZY   POINT. 

Edith.     Oh,  Clara  !    And  you  ? 

Clarice.  It  was  the  night  before  our  reception  that  he  told 
me  how — how  much  he  cared  for  me,  and  I  answered  that  I 
would  give  him  his  reply  the  next  night,  at  the  party. 

Edith.     Yes,  go  on  ! 

Clarice.  Well,  the  next  day  I  got  a  dear  little  note  from 
him,  asking  me  to  wear  the  flowers  that  he  sent,  if  I  wished  to 
make  him  happy.  Well,  the  box  was  filled  with  violets — beautiful 
English  violets.  I  was  so  happy,  dear,  when  I  pinned  them  in 
my  belt.     I  wore  a  bunch  in  my  hair,  too. 

Edith.     I  remember.     They  were  lovely  and  so  were  you. 

Clarice.  I  had  scarcely  entered  the  hall  when  I  saw  him. 
He  started  toward  me,  then  turned,  like  a  flash,  and  left  the 
room.  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  one  word  from  him  since. 
I  only  learned  that  he  had  gone  away. 

Edith.     Oh,  Clarice  !  it  was 

Clarice.     It  was  shameful  !  and  I'll  never  get  over  it. 

Edith.     There  must  have  been  some  mistake. 

Clarice.  How  could  there  have  been  ?  I  had  his  note  and 
the  flowers,  and  I  wore  them  at  his  request.  He  just  made  me 
show  my  heart  and  laughed  at  me  for  it !     I  hate 

Edith.    No,  you  don't,  dear,  you  know 

Enter  Elinor,  l.,  pulling  Aunt  Debby  after  her. 

Elinor  {laughing).  Come  along  !  I  sha'n't  let  you  go. 
You've  got  to  rest,  until  Ashrael  rings  the  dinner-bell.  Every- 
thing  is    all    right   and {Discovers  girls.)     Oh,  I  didn't 

know  you  were  here.     I  thought  you  had  gone  out. 

Edith  {rising).  Bernice  and  Laura  have  gone,  but  I  stayed 
in  with  Clarice.     She  has  a  headache. 

Aunt  Debby  {sitting  at  small  table -l.).  Oh,  that's  too  bad  ! 
But  don't  you  worry,  dear,  our  mountain  air  will  cure  all  your 
aches  and  pains. 

Elinor  {laughing).  If  it  doesn't,  Aunt  Debby  will  dose  you 
with  herb  tea,  until  you  will  get  well  in  self-defence. 

Aunt  Debby.  Now,  Elinor  !  that's  hardly  fair.  I  am 
sure 

Ashrael  {looking  in  C).  Yes,  she's  here.  You  can  walk 
right  in,  Mis'  Hardscratch.  Miss  Dexter,  here's  some  one  to 
see  you.  \Shows  Mrs.  Hardscratch  in  and  exit. 

Aunt  Debby  {rising).  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Hardscratch  ? 
Come  in.     You  look  tired  and  warm. 

[She gives  her  the  chair Jrom  which  she  has  risen.  AUNT 
Debby  sits  l.  of  tables^.,  Elinor  r.  of  it,  Edith  on 
arm  of  couch  near  CLARICE. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.     Yes,  it's  awful  hot  in  the  sun,  an'  I've 


BREEZY   POINT.  1 5 

been  berryin'  over  on  Blueberry  Hill.  I  thought  you  might 
want  the  berries,  bein*  as  you've  got  a  house  full  of  folks,  so  I 
stopped  here  instid  of  cartin   'em  home. 

Aunt  Debby.  Why,  yes,  I  shall  be  very  glad  of  them. 
Elinor,  introduce  the  girls. 

Elinor  {rising).  Mrs.  Hardscratch,  these  are  the  young 
ladies  who  are  going  to  stay  with  us  awhile,  Miss  Fenleighand 
Miss  Norton. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch  {rising and  shaking  hands  with  girls). 
I'm  glad  to  see  you  well.  {To  Aunt  Debby.)  Are  these  all 
there  is  of  'em  ? 

Edith  {laughing).  No,  Mrs.  Hardscratch,  there  are  more  of 
us,  but  they  aren't  in.  {Aside,  to  Clarice.)  Isn't  she  a 
specimen  ! 

Aunt  Debby.  How  many  berries  did  you  bring  us,  Mrs. 
Hardscratch  ? 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Four  quarts  good  an'  heapin'.  I  hid 
'em  out  under  the  stairs,  as  there's  no  trustin'  hired  help,  nor 
no  one  else,  for  that  matter. 

Clarice.     I'm  afraid  you're  a  pessimist,  Mrs.  Hardscratch. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  No,  I'm  a  Baptist,  Free-will.  Before 
we  moved  from  the  old  Bill  Smith  place  up  to  the  farm,  the 
deacon  kept  store  :  an'  I  tell  you 'twas  a  sight  to  see  a  lot  of  men 
set  'round  the  store  evenin's  an'  eat  raisins,  crackers,  apples, 
anything  they  could  lay  hold  of !  I  soon  cured  'em  of  it,  though, 
for  I  soaked  the  crackers  in  kerosene,  covered  the  raisins  with 
cayenne  pepper,  an'  set  the  apples  where  they  couldn't  get  at  cm. 

Elinor  {laughing).  No  one  but  you,  Mrs.  Hardscratch, 
would  have  thought  of  it. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Well,  when  you  have  to  think  for  two 
it  will  sharpen  your  wits. 

Edith.     For  two  ? 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Yes,  the  deacon  never  had  the  head- 
ache from  thinking  too  much,  an'  then  he's  so  mealy-mouthed, 
he  darsn't  say  his  soul's  his  own.  I  knew  it  when  I  married 
him,  an'  if  I  hadn't  felt  sure  of  myself,  I  should  never  have 
undertaken  the  job. 

Clarice.  Then  you  believe  in  the  subjugation  of  man,  Mrs. 
Hardscratch  ? 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  No,  I  don't  exactly  believe  they  came 
from  monkeys,  but  I  do  believe  you  ought  to  keep  'em  where 
they  belong  !  Give  'em  an  inch  an'  they'll  take  an  ell.  The 
deacon's  little,  but  he's  got  the  temper  of  a  meat-axe. 

Elinor.  Why,  I  should  never  have  suspected  it.  He  looks 
the  mildest  of  men. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Well,  he'd  ought  to  ;  he's  had  twenty- 
ftvc  years'  trainin',     I  made  up  my  mind,  years  ago,  that  if  any 


10  BREEZY   POINT. 

one  was  goin*  to  look  meek,  I'd  ruther  it  would  be  him  than  me. 
It  all  depends  on  the  way  you  begin. 

Edith  {to  Clarice).     Listen  and  be  wise  ! 

Clarice.     Poor  man  ! — poor  Deacon  Hardscratch  ! 

Mrs.  Hardscratch  {to  Clarice).  'Pears  to  me  you  don't 
look  very  well.     Kinder  pindlin',  aint'  you  ? 

Clarice.  I  am  usually  very  well,  Mrs.  Hardscratch,  but  I 
have  a  headache  to-day,  that's  all. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  All  ?  I  should  think  that  was  enough! 
Why,  I  had  two  sisters,  a  cousin  and  an  aunt  die  of  headaches. 
I  didn't  know  but  what  they  would  go  through  the  whole  family  ; 
so  I  says  to  myself,  "Somethin's  got  to  be  done  to  cure  'em,  or 
there  won't  be  none  of  us  left  to  tell  the  tale."  So  I  jest  set  to 
work  an'  made  some  medicine  that'll  cure  headaches  every 
time.  It'll  only  cost  you  a  dollar  a  bottle.  Sha'n't  I  send  you 
over  a  bottle  ? 

Clarice.  Ihank  you,  Mrs.  Hardscratch,  I  do  not  think  I 
need  medicine.  I  expect  this  air  will  make  me  quite  strong,  so 
you  needn't  trouble 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  No  trouble  at  all.  I'll  send  the 
deacon  over  with  it  to-night,  on  his  way  to  meetin'. 

Edith  {aside  to  Clarice).     You're  in  for  it ! 

Clarice.     Did  y«u  ever  hear  anything  like  that  ? 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Now  that  I'm  here,  Miss  Dexter,  I 
might  as  well  ask  you  if  you  don't  want  some  eggs.  The  hens 
arc  layin'  like  fury  now. 

Aunt  Debby.     Well,  maybe 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Oh,  you'll  need  'em,  for  city  folks  are 
great  feeders.  I  had  some  at  our  house  one  year,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  I  should  never  fill  'em  up. 

Aunt  Debby.     We  only  hope  they  will  like  our  country  fare. 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Don't  worry,  they'll  eat  anything  you 
set  before  *em.     Well,  (r/ j/«^)  I  s'pose  I  might  as  well  be  goin  . 

Aunt  Debby.  Won't  you  stay  and  have  some  dinner,  Mrs. 
Hardscratch  ? 

Mrs.  Hardscratch.  Thank  you,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  bein* 
as  I'm  here.  The  deacon  took  his  dinner  into  the  field,  and  the 
twins  know  where  the  vittles  is,  so  they  can  hustle  for  them- 
selves ;  so  I  guess,  if  you'll  excuse  me,  I'll  jest  slip  out  to  the 
sink  an'  wash  my  hands.  [Exit  l. 

Elinor.  Oh,  Aunt  Debby,  how  could  you  ask  her  to 
dinner  ! 

Aunt  Debby.     Why,  my  dear,  I  couldn't  be  rude. 

Edith  {to  Clarice).     Just  watch  me  eat  !     I'll  shock  her. 

Enter  Bernice,  Laura  and  Old  Clem,  a  gipsy,  c. 
BernicE.     Wc  met  this  old  gipsy  woman  down  the  road  and 


BREEZY  POINT.  tf 

she  says  she  tells  fortunes.  We  didn't  want  Claire  or  Edith  to 
miss  having  their  fate  revealed,  so  v^e  asked  her  up  to  the 
house. 

Laura.     Do  you  mind,  Miss  Dexter  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  Not  at  all,  my  dear.  This  is  Old  Clem  ;  she 
is  no  stranger  to  us. 

Clem.  I  can  tell  the  pretty  ladies  something  they  would  like 
to  know. 

Elinor.  Yes,  indeed,  Clem  is  an  old  acquaintance.  She 
has  been  here  every  summer  for  years  ;  but  I  haven't  seen  you 
for  a  long  while,  Clem.  Why  haven't  you  been  up  to  Breezy 
Point  ? 

Clem,     A  snake  bit  my  foot  and  I've  been  lame. 

Elinor.     A  snake  ? 

Clem.     Well,  you  folks  call  it  rheumatiz. 

Edith.     Don't  you  get  very  tired  of  camp  life  ? 

Clem  (C).  No,  I  love  it  !  I  hate  the  houses  !  I  should  suf- 
focate under  a  roof.  Shall  I  tell  your  fortune,  lady  ?  Cross  the 
poor  old  gipsy's  hand  with  silver. 

[  ASHRAEL  ringing  dinner-bell. 

Elinor.  There's  the  dinner-bell.  I'm  afraid  you  won't  have 
time  to  have  your  fortunes  told  now,  girls.  Why  can't  we  go 
down  to  the  camp  to-night  ? 

Bernice.     Oh,  yes,  that  would  be  much  better. 

Aunt  Debby  {ai  door  l.).  Dinner  is  ready  ;  right  this  way, 
please. 

Bernice  {to  Elinor,  as  they  go  out).  You  tell  her  to  expect 
us  after  supper.  [Exit  girls,  l. 

Elinor.  You  heard  me  promise  to  take  the  girls  down  to- 
night, didn't  you,  Clem  ? 

Clem.     Yes,  I  heard. 

Elinor.  And  I'll  bring  you  a  basket  of  food  and  a  bottle  of 
currant  wine. 

Clem.     Bless  your  bright  eyes  ! 

Elinor.  And  you'll  tell  my  fortune,  too,  this  time,  won't 
you  ?     You  know  I've  often  coaxed  you. 

Clem.  No  !  but  I'll  tell  theirs,  good  or  bad.  I'll  take  their 
money,  I  hate  their  high  an'  haughty  ways,  curse  'em  !  I 
hate  'em  root  an'  branch  I  \Up  c. 

Elinor  {itp  l.  hands  to  ears).     Oh,  don't,  Clem  ! 

Clem  [patting  her  heaii).  There,  there,  I  didn't  mean  to 
hurt  your  pretty  ears. 

Elinor.     You  will  tell  my  fortune  to-night,  won't  you  } 

Clem.  No,  I  tell  you  !  You're  better  off  not  to  hear  it, 
better  off !  {Exit  c.     Elinor  looking  after  her, 

CURTAIN. 


BREEZY   POINT. 


ACT    II. 


SCENE. — A  camp  in  the  woods.  Six  weeks  later.  Kitchen 
table  up  R.  C.  If  convenient,  a  tent  should  be  used  up  R.,  the 
entrance  visible.  A  couple  of  rustic  benches,  chairs  and 
camp-stools  scattered  about  stage,  Ashrael  discovered  at 
table,  washing  dishes.    Fantine  on  her  right,  wiping  them, 

Fantine.  This  is  not  ze  work  I  was  to  do  when  Made- 
moiselle Verenon  asks  of  me  to  be  her  maid  ! 

Ashrael.  'T won't  hurt  you  I  reckon.  Folks  can't  camp 
out,  unless  some  one  does  the  work,  an'  you  was  tickled  as 
could  be  when  you  found  out  we  was  goin'  to  live  a  spell  out 
doors. 

Fantine.  I  thought  me  it  would  be  vera  romantic  ;  but  the 
flies  do  bite  me  and  the  sun  does  spoil  my  face. 

Ashrael.  I  reckon  they  won't  eat  you  !  You'll  have  face 
enough  left,  don't  worry  ?  Where  did  you  sneak  to  last  night, 
after  dark  ?     I  couldn't  find  you  nowhere. 

Fantine.  I  heard  somebody's  call,  in  a  vera  queer  voice,  to 
whip  a  boy,  by  the  name  of  Will,  and  I  went  to  find  him. 

Ashrael.  Well,  greenie,  that  was  a  bird.  Night  before 
last  I  hunted  for  you,  an'  you's  nowhere  to  be  found.  You're 
as  slippery  as  an  eel. 

Fantine.     1  went  to  look  at  ze  moon. 

Ashrael.  Because  there  was  a  man  it  it,  I  suppose.  You 
must  have  liked  the  looks  of  him',  cause  you's  gone  two  hours. 
I  jest  thought  you'd  gone  down  to  the  village  to  see  that  feller 
that  works  in  Brown's  grocery  store.  You've  been  cuttin'  up 
like  sixty  sence  I  interdooced  you  to  a  few  fellers.  You  act  as 
though  you  never  saw  one  before,  an'  you  was  afraid  some  of 
'em  would  get  away  ;  but  you've  found  one  that  don't  run  after 
you,  an'  that's  Billy  Griffin. 

Fantine.     Billee  is  vera  quiet. 

Ashrael.  'Course  he  is  !  When  a  feller's  been  in  love  five 
years,  an*  hain't  got  no  encouragement,  he  ain't  apt  to  be  very 
frisky.  There  !  them  dishes  are  done  now,  thank  goodness  ; 
an'  I'm  goin'  to  lay  down,  under  some  tree,  an'  read  "  The 
Pirate's  Bride."  I  left  her  hangin'  over  a  precipice,  an'  he  was 
runnin'  might  an'  main,  to  save  her. 

Fantine.     Oh,  read  zat  to  me,  Ashreel  ! 

Ashrael.  Come  along.  I'll  make  your  eyes  stick  out,  an* 
give  you  the  shivers  so  you  won't  sleep  tor  a  week. 

[Ashrael  and  Fantine  exeunt  L, 


BREEZY    POINT.  1 9 

Enter  Laura,  Bernice  and  Edith,  r. 

Laura  {laughing).  I  tell  you,  Edith,  it's  a  sight  to  see  the 
way  Bernice  chases  folks  with  her  camera  ! 

[Edith  on  camp-stool  l.,  Laura  and  Bernice  on 
rustic  bench  R. 

Bernice.     Well,  didn't  I  get  some  beauties,  this  morning? 

Laura.  Yes,  she  even  went  down  to  the  blacksmith's  and 
caught  him  shoeing  a  horse.     But  where  is  Clarice  ? 

Edith.  Oh,  she's  been  gone  all  the  morning,  sketching  an 
old  mill  that  she  discovered  last  week.  Elinor  went  with  her. 
I  say,  isn't  she  the  dearest  girl,  you  ever  saw  ? 

Laura.     Who  ? 

Edith.     Why,  Elinor,  of  course. 

Bernice.  Yes,  she  makes  me  ashamed  of  myself  every  hour 
in  the  day,  she  is  so  unselfish.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  for 
her  ;  but  goodness  !  she's  so  proud  about  anything  like  that,  I 
wouldn't  dare  mention  it. 

Edith.     I'd  give  a  good  deal  if  I  could  sing  as  she  can  ! 

Bernice.  She  has  a  marvellous  voice,  and  here  I  am,  with 
just  an  ordinary,  every  day  kind  of  a  voice,  going  abroad  this 
fall  to  study. 

Laura.  Don't  underrate  yourself,  Miss  !  You  know  that  you 
sing  like  a  nightingale. 

Edith.     Bernice  knows  it. 

Bernice.  I  do  not.  I  know  that  I've  studied  for  three  years 
and  there  isn't  one-half  the  melody  in  my  voice  that  Elinor  has 
in  hers  ;  and  here  I  am,  without  a  relative,  throwing  money 
away  on  myself  all  of  the  time,  when  I'd  be  so  happy  to  give  that 
girl  a  chance  to  study. 

Edith.  You  have  such  a  big  heart  that  you  may  tind  it 
troublesome,  one  of  these  days,  Bernice. 

Bernice.  Never  fear  !  My  heart  is  engaged  to  Mr.  Am- 
bition and  they  are  going  to  live  in  peace  and  unity. 

Edith.  And  Laura's  parents  have  really  consented  to 
allow  her  to  go  abroad  with  you  ? 

Bernice.  Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  dose  that  lazy  girl  with 
enthusiasm  three  times  a  day  before  meals,  as  the  prescriptions 
read,  and  you  may  expect  to  hear  a  violiniste,  when  she  comes 
back,  who  will  make  you  all  proud  to  say :  "Ah,  yes,  I  went  to 
school  with  her  at  Madame  Finikin's  !  " 

Laura  {rising).  Do  keep  still,  Bernice  !  I  sha'n't  amount  to 
a  row  of  pins,  I  know  I  never  shall.  But  here  are  the  truants, 
chattering  like  magpies. 

Enter  Clarice  and  Elinor,  r. 
Clarice.    Ah,  girls,  we've  had  the  greatest  time  !    Rode  on 
a  load  of  hay  1 


iO  BREEZY    POINT. 

Edith.     Oh,  dear  !  and  I  missed  it. 

Clarice.  I  should  say  so  !  You  see  I  had  sketched  the  mill 
all  right  and  we  were  coming  back  to  camp  by  the  rond.  when 
we  met —  who  was  it,  Ehnor  ? 

Elinor.     Mr.  Drake  with  a  load  of  hay. 

Clarice.     And  who  do  you  think  was  with  him,  Edith  ? 

Edith.     His  freckled  hired  hand,  I  suppose. 

Clarice.  No,  Miss.  Dick  Coleman,  who  was  sweet  on  you 
last  year. 

Edith.  Dick  here  ?  I  thought  he  was  in  the  Adirondacks  ! 
Where  is  he  staying  ?  Did  he  know  I  was  here  ?  Shall  we  see 
him  ? 

Clarice.     One  at  a  time,  please. 

Laura.  Edith  is  just  like  a  phonograph  ;  when  she  gets 
wound  up,  she  just 

Edith.  Do  keep  still !  Clarice,  why  don't  you  tell  me  ? 
You're  the  most  provoking  girl !     Elinor,  you  answer  me. 

Elinor.  Well,  Dick,  as  you  call  him,  is  here,  surely, 
and 

Clarice.  Let  me  answer  every  other  question.  He  has 
been  in  the  Adirondacks,  but  some  magnet  drew  him  up 
among  these  hills.     Go  on,  Elinor,  it's  your  inning. 

Elinor.  And  he's  staying  at  Mr.  Drake's,  two  miles  from 
here. 

Clarice.     And  he  asked  for  you. 

Elinor.     And  he's  coming  to  take  you  for  a  drive,  later. 

Edith.     How  perfectly  lovely  ! 

Bernice.     I  never  saw  such  a  little  goose,  Edith  ! 

Edith.  Oh,  you  can  just  go  and  split  your  throat  singing, 
but  I'd  rather  hear  Dick  whisper  three  words,  than  all  the 
Italian  things  you  can  learn  in  a  year. 

Laura.     There's  honesty  for  you  I 

Aunt  Debby  {appearing  R.).  Girls  we  are  out  of  milk. 
Some  one  must  go  over  to  Mrs.  Hardscratch's  and  get  some. 

Bernice.  Come,  Laura,  we  will  go.  Clarice  and  Elinor 
are  tired,  and  Edith  wouldn't  know  if  she  were  sent  for  milk, 
or  cheese.  {Looking  off  r.)  But  who  is  coming  down  the 
path  }  I  do  believe  they  are  the  Hardscratch  twins,  for  they 
are  as  alike  as  two  peas. 

Elinor  {looking).  Yes,  here  are  the  twins,  spick  span  clean, 
in  their  new  aprons. 

Enter  Bethia  and  Sophia  Hardscratch, 
with  can  and  tin-pail^  R.^ 

Elinor.     Halloo,  girls  !  what  have  you  brought  us  ?^ 
Bethia.    Some  milk. 


BREEZY   POINT.  ft 

Sophia.     Yes,  milk. 

Bernice.  We  were  just  going  over  to  your  house  for  some 
and  you've  saved  us  a  long  walk. 

Elinor.     But  what's  in  the  pail  ?  [Tak^s  pail  and  can. 

Bethia.     Butter. 

Sophia.     Jest  butter.  [Elinor  exit  r. 

Laura,     Sit  down  ;  you  look  tired. 

Bethia.     It's  awful  hot ! 

Sophia.     Awful  !  {They  sit  R. 

Edith.     And  echo  answers 

Clarice.  Keep  still,  Edith,  you'll  frighten  them  and  I  want 
to  hear  them  talk.  Take  your  sun-bonnets  off  and  I'll  give  you 
some  of  the  milk  to  drink. 

Bethia.  Oh,  we  never  drink  that  kind.  Mother  skims  it 
on  purpose  for  you. 

Sophia.     Yes,  on  purpose  for  you. 

Bernice.  I  read  in  ancient  history  once,  that  children  and 
fools  are  noted  for  their  veracity. 

Laura.  What  makes  your  mother  take  so  much  trouble 
for  us  ? 

Bethia.  She  said  city  folks  wasn't  used  to  good  milk  and  it 
would  make  'em  sick. 

Sophia.     Awful  sick  ! 

Clarice.     Thoughtful  soul  ! 

Bernice.     What's  your  name,  bright  eyes  ? 

Bethia.     Bethia  Maria  Hardstratch. 

Laura.     And  yours,  curly-locks. 

Sophia.  No,  it  hain't  Curly-locks.  It's  jest  Sophia  Zeniah 
Hardscratch. 

Edith.     Simply  that  and  nothing  more. 

Bethia.  Mother's  awful  glad  you're  campin'  out,  'cause 
Miss  Dexter  don'  keep  hens  and  cows,  an'  mother  says  she'll 
make  a  lot  of  money  out  of  you. 

Sophia.     Lots  of  money. 

Bethia.  You've  got  fixed  up  real  nice  out  here,  hain't  you  ? 
It's  ever  so  much  nicer  than  stayin'  in  doors.  I  jest  hate  goin' 
to  school  ! 

Sophia.     Hate  it ! 

Laura.  That's  naughty.  {Recites  in  high-pitched  mono- 
tones.) "  You  should  love  your  teachers  fond  and  true,  and 
help  them  all  you  can.  Some  little  act  each  day  should  do — 
should  do Some  one  help  me,  can't  you  ? 

Bethia.  Humph  !  I  don't  believe /<7«'^  like  to,  go  to  school, 
if  all  the  boys  called  you  twinsey. 

Sophia.     Yes,  jest  hollered  "twinsey." 

Bethia.     And  said  your  pa  was  hen-pecked. 

Sophia.     Hen-pecked  1     Jimmy  True  said  that,  and  I  jest  told 


i2  BREEZY   POINT. 

him  'twan't  no  such  thing,  for  Bethia  an  me  got  all  the  eggs 
and  pa  didn't  go  near  the  hens. 

Edith.     Wise  man  !     Keep  away  from  the  hens. 

Bethia.  Pa's  awful  good,  an'  said  -he  was  sorry  for  you, 
'cause  ma  was  jest  roastin'  you. 

Sophia.  Yes,  he  did  say  it ;  roastin'  you  ! 

Bernice.  Oh,  Where's  my  camera  ?  I  must  get  a  snap-shot  at 
the  twins  ! 

Laura.     Even  the  innocence  of  childhood  escapeth  not ! 

\ExU  Bernice  r. 

Sophia.     What's  she  gone  to  fetch  ? 

Edith.  A  camera.  Wait,  she's  going  to  take  your 
picture. 

Re-enter  Bernice  with  camera. 

Sophia.    Won't  it  go  off  ? 

Bernice.  Not  very  far.  Now  you  must  hold  still,  or  you'll 
spoil  the  picture.     You  mustn't  move  a  bit. 

Bethia.  If  I  should  wiggle  my  toe  in  my  shoe,  would  it 
spoil  the  picture  ? 

Bernice.  Sure  !  Now,  then,  smile  a  little.  {They  grin.)  All 
right !     You  come  down  in  a  few  day  and  I'll  show  it  to  you. 

Bethia.     Is  that  all  there  is  to  it  ? 

Sophia.     All  there  is  ? 

Bernice.     Yes. 

Bethia.     Humph  !  it  didn't  hurt  a  bit. 

Laura,     That's  because  you  didn't  move. 

Bethia.     I  didn't  do  nothin'. 

Sophia.     I  bit  my  tongue,  will  that  show  ? 

Bernice.     No,  I  won't  let  it. 

Bethia.  Come  on,  Sophia,  we  must  go  now,  or  mother'll 
say  we  stayed  long  enough  to  tell  everything  we  know,  an'  I 
hain't  told  half,  have  you  ? 

Sophia.  No,  not  half!  Hain't  told  how  eggs  is  fell  to 
eighteen  cents  a  dozen,  nor  how  mother  dropped  the  butter 
out  of  the  pail  an'  scraped  it,  nor  nothin'. 

Laura.  That's  right,  don't  tell  !  {Girls  laugh.)  Here's  a 
bag  of  candy  for  you.     {Gives  candy  to  Bethia.)    Come  again. 

All.     Good-bye. 

Bethia  and  Sophia.     Good-bye, 

Laura,     You  don't  have  to  go  on  the  lake  for  an  echo. 

Aunt  Debby  enters  r.  with  work-basket 
and  stockings  to  darn. 

BeRI^ICE.     Here,   Aunt    Dehlw,    take   this   seat.     I'm   glad 


BREEZY   POINT.  SJ 

you're  going  to  sit  down.     (Aunt  Debby  sits  up  C.)     For  I'm 
afraid  this  camping  trip  is  making  you  a  lot  of  work. 

[Girls  all  sit  around  her, 

Clarice.     How  good  it  was  of  you  to  let  us  come  ! 

Aunt  Debby.  Why,  my  dear  girls,  I've  enjoyed  every 
iioment  of  it. 

Edith.     It  has  been  a  happy  summer. 

Laura.  There  hasn't  been  one  thing  to  mar  our  pleasure, 
not  one  ! 

Edith  {aside).  None  of  them  know  how  Clare's  heart 
aches,  and  how  she   tries  to  hide  it. 

Bernice.  It's  worth  a  good  deal  to  know  your  future,  and 
old  Clem  has  told  us  just  what  to  expect.  Laura,  every  time  I 
look  at  at  you  and  think  you're  going  to  have  three  husbands, 
I  can  forgive  anything  you  may  do.  Just  think  !  one  commits 
suicide,  another  gets  a  divorce  and  the  third  runs  away  ! 

Laura.     Well,  you  aren't  going  to  have  any,  miss  ! 

Bernice.  For  which  I  am  duly  thankful.  Edith's  going  to 
marry  the  first  man  who  asks  her,  and  Clarice,  poor  girl,  has  got 
to  go  through  fire  and  water,  before  she  «' lives  in  grease  and 
dies  in  peace,  and  is  buried  in  a  pot  of  cream." 

Enter  ELINOR,  R.  with  pan  of  pop-corn, 

Elinor  {calling).     Hot  popped  corn  !  popped  corn  ! 

Clarice.  You're  an  angel,  Elinor  !  Here,  set  the  pan  in 
front  of  us,  and  we'll  eat,  while  Aunt  Debby  darns.  (Elinor 
sets  pan  in  c. ;  all  sit  around  it.)  Doesn't  it  seem  strange  to 
have  such  a  lot  of  harum-scarum  girls,  calling  you  "  Aunt 
Debby  "  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  It  pleases  me  more  than  I  can  tell  you, 
child. 

Elinor.  Aunt  Debby's  heart  is  fairly  bubbling  over  with 
love  ;  and  it  would  be  a  pity  to  have  any  of  it  go  to  waste  ;  so 
it's  lucky  you  are  where  you  can  catch  it  as  it  falls. 

Laura.  A  pretty  metaphor,  Elinor,  but  if  you  go  on  like 
that,  you'll  have  a  headache. 

Bernice.  You  must  remember,  my  dear,  that  some  people 
can  stand  a  mental  strain,  that  would  kill  others.  Now,  don't 
try  to  answer  me  !     Your  mouth  is  too  full  of  corn. 

Edith  {looking  off  r.).  Oh,  I  say,  girls,  there  is  the  funniest 
looking  woman  I  ever  saw  coming  this  way  ! 

Aunt  Debby.    Who  can  it  be,  I  wonder.  [Girls  rise, 

Elinor  {looking).     No  one  I've  ever  seen  before. 

Laura.  She  looks  as  if  her  clothes  had  been  thrown  at  her 
and  caught  on  here  and  there,  just  as  it  happened. 

Clarice.  Look  at  her  baggage  !  She  has  come  to  stay, 
wherever  she  is  going. 


24  BREEZY   POINT. 

Elinor.    Stand  back,  girls,  here  she  comes  ! 

[  Girls  fall  bac  k. 

Enter  Mehitible  Doolittle,  r.  She  carries  an  old-fashioned 
carpet-bag,  hand-satchel,  band-box  and  umbrella. 

Mehitible.  Wall,  I  swan  !  if  I  hain't  run  right  into  a 
camp. 

Aunt  Debby  {rising).  Don't  be  startled,  my  good  woman, 
we  are  quite  harmless.     Have  you  lost  your  way  ? 

Mehitible.  You've  hit  it  now.  I  got  off  the  cars  an 
thought  I'd  cut  across  lots  to  Deacon  Hardscratch's  an'  I  run 
right  into  this  ere  place. 

Elinor.     Sit  down  and  rest  yourself. 

Aunt  Debby.  Yes ,  you  look  tired.  Bring  her  a  glass  of 
lemonade,  Elinor.  [Axil  Elinor  r. 

Mehitible  (sits  r.).  I  run  !  I  never  was  so  beat  out  in  my 
life.    Do  you  know  the  Hardscratches,  marm  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  Oh,  yes,  they  are  near  neighbors  of  ours,  and 
you  are  only  a  short  distance  from  their  house.  The  twins 
were  here  only  a  little  while  ago. 

Mehitible.  Want  to  know  if  the  twins  was  here  !  Bright 
as  buttons,  ain't  they  ?  I'm  Mrs.  Hardscratch's  sister,  Mehitible 
Doolittle. 

Aunt  Debby      Oh,  yes,  I've  heard  her  speak  of  you  often. 

Mehitible.  I  writ  her  I  was  comin'  over  from  Peakville,  a 
week  ago  ;  but  I  had  a  lot  of  salve  to  box,  an*  couldn't  get  away 
a  minit  sooner.     Be  these  girls  all  yours  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  No,  they  are  spending  the  summer  with  me, 
and  we  came  here  to  camp  for  a  little  outing. 

Enter  Elinor,  r.,  with  lemonade,  which  Mehitible  drinks 

eagerly, 

Mehitible.     Thank  you  ;  that  touches  the  right  spot. 

Clarice  (offering  fan).  Perhaps  you'd  like  a  fan.  Miss  Doo- 
..ttle. 

Mehitible.  Wall,  I  don't  care  if  I  do.  I  was  pretty  nigh 
unsettled  before  I  took  the  cars,  for  I'd  been  packin  yarbs  all 
the  mornin'  an'  the  sun  was  scorchin.'  So  you're  campin'  out  ? 
I  never  could  see  any  fun  in  it.  Jest  give  me  a  good  feather-bed 
when  night  comes. 

Aunt  Debby.  We  have  found  it  very  pleasant.  We  came 
to  these  woods  because  we  could  get  some  of  the  provisions 
from  your  sister's  farm. 

Mehitible.  Want  to  know  if  Samanthy's  lettin*  you  have 
supplies  !     That'll  be  a  reg'lar  picnic  for  her. 

Edith  {to  Clarice).  Evidently  she  knows  Samanthy's  little 
weakness. 


BREEZY   POINT.  25 

Mehitible.  Yes,  she's  got  a  master-head  for  business, 
Samanthy  has,  an'  it's  got  to  be  mighty  poor  pickin'  when  she 
don't  make  money. 

Aunt  Debby.     Yes,  Mrs.  Hardscratch  is  a  very  thrifty  woman. 

Mehitible.    The  deacon,  poor  critter,  I  kinder  pity  him  ! 

Bernice  {to  Laura).    So  do  I ! 

Mehitible.  I  hain't  seen  him  for  two  years.  His  hair  was 
thinnin'  out  awful  fast,  an'  he  had  a  terrible  meachin'  look,  that 
spoke  for  itself. 

Edith  {to  Clarice).  That  was  evidently  while  she  was  "  a 
trainin'  him." 

Mehitible.  Samanthy  was  quite  set  up  when  she  ketched 
the  deacon,  for  none  of  us  had  any  idea  she'd  ever  marry  ;  but 
somehow  or  nuther  the  Dooiittles  all  got  married,  sooner  or 
later. 

Aunt  Debby.     And  yet  you  are  single. 

Mehitible.     Wall,  I  shan't  be  long. 

Bernice  {to  Laura).  ••  Lives  there  a  man  with  heart  so 
dead  ? " 

Aunt  Debby.  Well,  I  hope  your  choice  will  be  a  wise  one, 
Miss  Doolittle.  Your  sister  told  me  you  were  quite  a  nurse  ; 
that  you  manufactured   bitters,  ointments,  tonics,  and  the  like. 

Mehitible.  La,  yes,  I  make  'em  by  the  gallon.  Ain't  any 
of  you  troubled  with  rheumatiz,  be  you  ?  I've  got  a  liniment 
that  will  cure  it  quicker'n  you  can  say  "Jack  Robinson." 

Aunt  Debby.  Mrs.  Hardscratch  makes  medicine,  too. 
She  sent  one  of  the  girls  a  bottle  of  it. 

Clarice.  The  cat  knocked  the  bottle  over,  lapped  some  of 
it,  and  died  in  spasms. 

Mehitible.     Too  bad  it  was  wasted  on  the  cat ! 

Edith.     Yes,  wasn't  it  a  shame  ? 

Mehitible.  You  speak  as  if  you  had  catarrh.  Now  let  me 
tell  you  something  about  my  catarrh  snuff.  Elder  Snitkins, 
down  to  the  Centre,  had  catarrh  so't  he'd  sneeze  an'  blow,  an' 
sneeze,  until  he'd  get  every  one  in  the  meetin'-house  a-blowin' 
too  ;  an'  he  couldn't  beat  religion  into  them  critters  to  save  his 
life.  Hadn't  no  voice  at  all,  scarcely.  Of  course,  when  he 
found  his  voice  goin',  he'd  beat  the  pulpit  with  his  fist  all  the 
harder  ;  then  the  dust  would  fly  an'  set  him  to  sneezin',  like  a 
cat  that  had  stuck  her  nose  into  cayenne  pepper — only  the 
elder'd  sneeze  so  loud  he'd  make  the  shandyleers  tremble. 
Wall,  one  day  I  persuaded  him  to  try  a  box  of  my  snuff,  an*  he 
hadn't  taken  six  boxes  before  his  head  was  clear  as  a  bell,  an* 
he  could  holler  like  a  loon. 

Bernice.     Poor  man  !  how  grateful  he  must  have  been  ! 

Mehitible.  Yes,  he  seemed  to  be,  an'  said  seein'  as  how  I'd 
done  so  much  for  him,  if  I  was  willin'  to  undertake  the  job  of 


2^  BREEZY   POINT. 

doctorin'  his  seven  children,  all  of  'em  bein*  pindlin',  hed  marry 
me. 

Laura.    So  the  elder  proposed  ! 

Mehitible.  Yes  ;  he  said  I  could  keep  right  on  makin* 
bitters,  salves,  an*  such,  an'  as  fast  as  the  children  took  sick,  I 
could  try  it  on  'em,  an'  if  it  cured  'em  I  should  have  a  free  con- 
science to  sell  it  to  other  people. 

Elinor.     And  what  if  it  killed  them  ? 

Mehitible.  Then  they'd  be  buried  'longside  of  their  mother, 
poor  things  !     The  elder  has  a  beautiful  corner  lot.  [Sig/ts. 

Laura.    And  when  is  the  wedding  to  be.  Miss  Doolittle  ? 

Mehitible.  In  about  four  weeks.  I  came  down  to  Saman* 
thy's  to  make  the  cake.  She'll  be  dretful  surprised,  for  she 
didn't  mistrust  a  thing  about  it.  (Rising.)  Wall,  I  might  as 
well  be  pokin'  along.     Hope  I  shan't  get  lost  again. 

Aunt  Debby.  Wait  a  minute.  Miss  Doolittle,  we  will  see  if 
we  can't  find  Ashrael.  She  will  show  you  the  way.  Elinor, 
just  blow  that  horn,  and  if  she's  anywhere  about,  she'll  hear 
you.     I  don't  see  where  she  can  be  !  [Elinor  blows  horn. 

Laura.  I  met  her  and  Fantine,  just  as  Bernice  and  I  were 
coming  in  ;  they  can't  be  far. 

Bernice.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  get  rid  of  Fantine  when 
I  leave  here.  She  is  a  perfectly  useless  appendage  and  never 
about  when  I  want  her. 

Enter  Ashrael  and  Fantine,  out  of  breath,  R. 

Aunt  Debby.  Where  in  the  world  did  you  hide  yourself, 
Ashrael  ?     I  have  wanted  you  several  times. 

Ashrael.  I  was  down  by  the  spring,  readin'  to  Fantine.  I 
tried  to  have  her  run  up  to  camp,  to  see  if  you  wanted  any- 
thing, but  she  was  so  scairt  at  Black  Donald's  ghost,  she 
wouldn't  stir  an  inch. 

Bernice.     Who's  ghost  ? 

Ashrael.     Oh,  jest  in  the  book  miss  ! 

Fantine.     Oh,  it  was  terreeble  !    A  ghost  who  was  all  bones  1 

Laura.     Did  you  expect  him  to  look  fat  and  healthy  ? 

Bernice.  Don't  fill  her  foolish  head  with  any  more  such  tales, 
Ashrael. 

Ashrael.  All  right,  miss,  I  didn't  know  she  was  so  weak  in 
the  brain. 

Aunt  Debby.  Ashrael,  this  is  Mrs.  Hardscratch's  sister. 
Show  her  where  she  lives.  She  has  lost  her  way.  Go  as  far  as 
Lover's  Lane  ;  she  can  see  the  house  there. 

Ashrael.     Yes'm.     Right  this  way.  {^Goingi., 

Mehitible.     I'm  turrible  obleeged  to  you  for  your  perliteness. 

Aunt  Debby.  Don't  mention  it.  Come  down  and  sec  us 
again. 


BREEZY   POINT.  27 

Mehitible.  I'll  try  to,  an'  if  any  of  you  come  this  way  another 
year,  jest  drive  over  to  Peakville  Centre,  an'  call  on  Mrs.  Elder 
Snifkins. 

Laura.     Thank  you,  Miss  Doolittle  ;  we'll  surely  come. 

Edith.     Indeed  we  will ! 

Elinor.     I  hope  you'll  cure  the  elder's  children  ? 

Clarice.     Yes,  and  be  happy  with  the  elder. 

All.     Good-bye  ! 

Mehitible.     Good-bye  !  [Exi^  with  Ashrael. 

Bernice.     That's  a  character  study  for  you,  girls. 

Laura.     The  queerest  we've  seen  yet. 

Bernice.  Fantine,  you  may  mend  my  serge  skirt.  I  am  go- 
ing boating  after  tea  and  shall  need  it. 

Fantine.  Vera  well,  mademoiselle.  {Aside.)  I  shall  not 
prick  my  fingers  vera  long  for  you.  \Exit  R. 

Edith.  Well,  I'm  off  to  beautify  myself  for  my  drive  with 
Dick. 

Clarice.     Don't  make  yourself  too  lovely. 

Edith.     No  danger.     I  wish  you  were  going  too,  Clare. 

Clarice.     There,  there,  don't  fib. 

Edith.     I'm  not  fibbing  !     You  won't  get  blue,  will  you  ? 

Clarice.  Don't  worry,  dear  ;  haven't  you  seen  how  I've 
been  "  cutting  up,"  as  Ashrael  says. 

Edith  {arm  about  her).  I  know  you  are  trying  to  be  a 
brave  little  girl,  and 

Laura.  No  secrets,  Edith  !  Remember,  you  are  going  to 
tell  us  all  Dick  says  when  you  get  back. 

Edith.     Of  course,  every  word. 

Laura.     No  cheating. 

Edith.     "  Honest  and  true  ;  cross  myself."  \Exit  R. 

Bernice.     She  grows  prettier  every  day. 

Aunt  Debby.  She's  a  dear,  thoughtful  child.  There,  Elinor, 
the  stockings  are  mended.  Now,  if  you'll  hand  me  that  pan  of 
apples  {pointing  off  stage  R.)  I'll  pare  a  few  for  an  apple- 
float  while  I  sit  here. 

\Exit  Elinor,  R.,  returning  with  apples, 

Laura.     You  are  never  idle  a  moment.  Aunt  Debby. 

Bernice.  How  can  she  be  idle  ?  Look  at  the  hungry  girls 
she  has  to  feed. 

Elinor.  I  can  just  tell  you  if  you  didn't  have  good  appe- 
tites. Aunt  Debby  would  feel  personally  injured. 

Aunt  Debby.     Nothing  pleases  me  more  than 

\Scream  heard  outside.  Old  Clem  shouting,  "  Run,  ye 
imps  of  Satan  /  If  I  had  my  hands  on  ye,  I'd  throttle 
ye  like  vermin,  as  ye  are !  "  She  staggers  on  L.  with 
bundle  of  baskets,  her  arm  bleeding. 

Girls.    It's  the  old  gipsy  ! 


28  BREEZY   POINT. 

Aunt  Debby  {rising).     And  she's  hurt ! 

Elinor.  Poor  old  Clem  !  Your  arm  is  bleeding.  {Leads 
her  to  seat,  R.)     Who  hurt  you  } 

Clem.  Those  boys,  the  black-hearted  little  torments, 
stretched  a  string  across  my  path,  then  hid  and  watched  me  fall. 

Bernice.     What  a  shame  ! 

Girls.     How  cruel  ! 

Elinor.    I  will  bathe  your  arm,  Clem.    It  must  hurt  you  badly» 
[Exit  R.,  returning  with  basin  of  water,  sponge  and 
bandage,  and  dresses  arm. 

Aunt  Debby.  Those  boys  should  be  punished  for  doing  a 
thing  like  that.  {Exit  r. 

Clarice.    That's  not  sport ! 

Laura.     It's  sheer  cruelty. 

Bernice.     Let  me  take  your  baskets.         [Places  them  up  L. 

Clem.  Oh,  I'd  like  to  wind  my  fingers  round  their  throats, 
I'd— — 

Elinor  {bandaging  arm).  There,  there,  don't  get  so  angry, 
Clem  ! 

Clem.  Angry  ?  It  isn't  the  arm  that  hurts,  that's  nothing. 
It's  the  feeling  here,  {hand  on  heart)  they  give  me,  those  rich 
men's  sons  !  I'd  like  to  see  'em  beg  from  door  to  door,  starving, 
freezing  ! 

Elinor,     Oh,  Clem,  don't ! 

Clem.  I'd  crush  'em,  like  worms  under  my  heel,  an'  I'd  rack 
their  bones  with  pain,  'till  they'd  cry  for  mercy.  Curse  'em  ! 
When  did  they  ever  try  to  do  a  kindness  for  me  ?  They  laugh 
and  jeer  at  me,  and  throw  rocks  at  me  !  Nobody  cares  for  old 
Clem,  but  she  can  make  'em  rue  this  day,  if  she  is  old  !  Snakes 
shall  bite  'em  and  wasps  sting  'em  ! 

Elinor.  I  care  for  you,  Clem,  and  I'd  do  anything  for  you. 
We'll  buy  all  your  baskets  and 

Chi£.u  {bur  sting  into  tears).     Don't!  don't! 

Aunt  Debby  {entering  r.  with  glass  of  wine).  Here,  my 
poor  woman,  drink  some  wine,  you  are  trembling  with  ex- 
haustion. 

Elinor  {giving  her  glass).  Yes,  do  drink  it !  I  am  sure  it 
will  make  you  better.  {Going  L.)  Now,  girls,  select  your 
baskets.     Aren't  they  pretty  ? 

Bernice.  Let  us  see  how  many  there  are.  Aunt  Debby 
must  have  this  for  her  mending. 

Clem  {talking  to  herself).  She  dressed  that  bony  old  arm, 
with  her  white  fingers.  She  wasn't  afraid  of  the  old  gipsy's 
blood,  and  she  said  that  she  cared  for  me. 

Clarice.     Clem's  talking  to  herself. 

Elinor.     Yes,  she's  getting  quiet.     Don't  notice  her 

CL¥:m.     Nobody's  said  that  for  years. 


BREEZY   POINT.  f^ 

BernicE  {smelling  baskets).  How  fragrant  this  sweet  grass 
is  ! 

Elinor.     You  must  accept  this  for  your  handkerchiefs. 

Clem  {becomijig  delirious).  Is  that  you  calling,  Harry  ? 
I  hurried  from  camp,  as  fast  as  I  could.  What  makes  you  look 
so  grave,  dear  ?  Sit  at  my  feet  with  your  head  in  my  lap  and 
let  me  stroke  your  curls.     Light,  sunny  curls,  I  love  them  so  ! 

Bernice.     She's  mumbling  to  herself  yet. 

Elinor.     She's  very  weak  to-day. 

[Girls  talk  during  Cleu's  soliliquy. 

Clem  {moaning).  Oh,  Harry  !  your  father  said  that  ?  No, 
no  lad,  I'll  never  ruin  your  life.     Don'taskme!     Theycantake 

you  from  the  poor  gipsy  girl,  but  I — I 

\H'ead  sinks  on  breast. 

Aunt  Debby  {going  to  her  and  trying  to  rouse  her).  Clem  ! 
Clem  !  come  into  the  tent  and  lie  down.     You're  ill,  I  fear. 

Clem.     No,  I — I'm  all  right. 

Elinor  {assisting  her  to  rise).  Please  go  in  and  rest,  just  to 
please  me,  won't  you  ? 

Clem.     What  does  it  matter  to  you  ? 

Elinor.  Very  much.  It  hurts  me  to  see  you  like  this, 
Clem. 

Clem.  And  the  sight  of  your  face,  the  sound  of  your  voice, 
hurts  me  worse  than  the  rocks  they  throw  at  me.  {Going.) 
Yes,  I'll  go  to  please  you,  I'll  go.    \Exit  R.,  Elinor  leading  her. 

Clarice.  What  an  influence  Elinor  has  over  that  old 
woman  ! 

Aunt  Debby.  She  has  known  her  for  years  and  could  always 
make  her  do  anything.  When  she  was  a  little  girl,  Clem  would 
come  up  to  Breezy  Point  and  sit  watching  her  at  play,  for 
hours.  And  once,  when  Elinor  was  sick,  she  wouldn't  leave 
the  house  and  acted  like  an  insane  woman. 

Bernice.  Then  Elinor  has  lived  with  you  since  she  was  a 
child  ? 

Aunt  Debby.    Yes. 

Laura.     Are  both  her  parents  dead  ? 

Aunt  Debby.     I'm  the  nearest  relative  she  has.         {Exit  r. 

Laura.     I'll  wager  there's  some  mystery  about  Elinor. 

Clarice.     Life  is  full  of  them. 

Bernice.  There  have  been  more  facts  than  fancies  in  my 
life,  at  any  rate. 

Laura.  Poor  girl  !  You  have  had  some  sad  experiences, 
haven't  you  ? 

Bernice  {gravely).     A  few,  dear. 

Laura.  I  often  think  what  a  shock  it  must  have  been  to  you 
to  find  yourself  practically  alone  in  a  strange  city  with  a  sigic 
father.     How  long  did  he  live  after  you  landed  ? 


30  BREEZY  POINT. 

Bernice.  Three  months,  three  precious  months,  for  he 
gave  me  counsel  in  those  few  weeks  to  direct  me  all  my 
Vife. 

Clarice.  And  haven't  you  any  relatives  in  this  country, 
Bernice,  not  one  ? 

Bernice.  Not  any,  dear,  nor  in  the  wide  world,  except  an 
uncle  in  England,  whom  I  have  never  seen.  But  then,  you 
know,  my  guardian  was  papa's  friend  and  he  is  very  kind  to 
me. 

Laura.  And  then  you  have  loads  of  money — and  there's  me  ! 
I'm  going  to  stick  to  you  like  grim  death,  for  I  haven't  any 
sister  and  my  mother  has  so  many  clubs  and  societies  to  attend 
that  I  always  feel  as  if  I  were  trespassing  on  her  time  when  I 
am  at  home.  I'm  sure  she'll  find  it  pretty  hard  to  be  quaran- 
tined while  Jack  has  scarlet  fever. 

Bernice  {embracing  her).  A  girl  couldn't  be  very  lonely 
who  had  you.  Only  you'll  be  falling  in  love  one  of  these  days, 
and  leaving  me. 

Laura.  Never  !  we'll  be  girl  bachelors  and  keep  an  ideal 
hall.  But  come  on,  let's  interview  the  speckled  beauties  in 
Bow  Brook. 

Bernice.    There  is  no  bait. 

Laura.  I'll  dig  some.  I'm  not  a  bit  afraid  of  those  nasty, 
wriggling  worms  now,  and  I  take  positive  delight  in  stringing 
them  on  a  hook.  {Picks  up  tomato-can.)  Here's  the  bait-box. 
Just  come  and  watch  me.     Aren't  you  coming,  Clarice  ? 

Clarice.  No.  I've  letters  to  write,  and  then,  I  always  scare 
the  fish. 

Bernice.     Well,  we'll  catch  a  trout  for  your  supper,  then, 

Laura.     Yes,  I'll  bring  you  a  half-pounder. 

[Exeunt  Laura  and  Bernice  l. 

Clarice.  They're  as  good  as  gold,  those  girls  !  Oh,  there's 
the  sound  of  carriage  wheels  !  {Looks  oJF  r.)  Ves,  Dick  has 
come  for  Edith.  How  pretty  she  looks  in  that  blue  gown  and 
hat  with  pink  roses  !  Dick  has  won  her  heart,  there's  no  doubt 
about  that.  I  hope  he  can  be  trusted  with  it  !  {Sits  R.)  I 
should  be  sorry  to  see  her  make  such  an  idiot  of  herself  as  I 
have  done  !  Dick  was  Charlie  Grierson's  sworn  chum.  I 
wonder  if  he  knows  his  whereabouts.  Nonsense  !  here  I  am 
again,  wasting  my  thoughts  on  a  man  I  ought  to  hate  \  But 
it's  no  use.  I  never  eat  an  apple  but  I  find  myself  saving  the 
seeds  and  saying  ;  "  One,  I  love,"  and  all  that  folderol.  This 
very  morning,  I  picked  a  daisy,  and,  before  I  knew  it,  I  was 
counting  the  petals.  {Rises.)  Clarice  Fenleigh,  you're  a  little 
fool,  and  you've  got  to  stop  such  actions  !  Now  I'll  go  and 
write  a  letter  to  my  mother,  and  tell  her  how  happy  I  am  ;  and 
I'll  make  her  believe  it  if  I  don't.  i^xit  R, 


BREEZV  POINT.  3 1 

Enter  Fantine,  L.  ,  with  valise,  hat,  and  jacket,  looking 
cautiously  around. 

Fantine.  They  haf  all  gone,  and  I  shall  work  no  more. 
You  can  feenish  to  sew  your  skirt  yourself,  Mademoiselle  Verc- 
non  !  I  shall  nevare  thread  some  needles  for  you  some  more. 
Let  me  see  what  zey  is  all  about.  {Looks  off  R.)  Ze  old  lady 
and  her  niece  are  some  berries  peeking  ofer,  and  zey  haf  a  half 
pan  yet  to  peek.  I  know  zey  old  geepsy  is  asleep,  for  I  did 
hear  her  snore  with  her  nose.  My  meestress  and  her  friend  haf 
gone,  with  a  shovel,  to  deeg  some  worms  out  of  the  ground,  and 
Mees  Fenleigh  is  writing.  I  must  hurry  myself,  for  I  shall  haf 
only  the  time  to  lose  Ash  reel  and  get  to  the  veelage.  {Takes 
letter  from  pocket  and  pins  it  on  tree  up  R.)  Mees  Ashreel 
Grant,  zere  is  a  lettare  for  you,  and  you  will  nevare  say  some 
more  zati  haf  no  brains  inside  my  head.  {Puts  on  hat.)  Let 
me  see  if  haf  forgot  sometings.  {Looks  in  valise.)  How  vera 
bright  in  me  to  get  my  wages  for  ze  month,  last  night  !  I  tells 
mademoiselle  I  wants  to  buy  me  some  shoes.  Yes,  everyting  I 
shall  need  me  is  here.  Zey  will  be  surprised  vera  mooch  to 
find  me  when  I  am  gone.  Ah,  zey  think  I  am  vera — what  zey 
call  ze  color  of  ze  leaf?  Ah,  oui,  green  !  but  I  knows  some- 
tings,  or  two.  Now  I  am  ready  to  say  good-bye,  but  I  shall 
wheesper  it,  so  no  ones  shall  hear  me. 

[Throws  kiss  7nockingly  to  R.,  waves  handkerchief  and 
exit  L.,  cautiously. 

Enter  Elinor,  R.  with  large  basket,  places  it  up  L. 

Elinor.  There  !  Clem  mustn't  forget  her  basket  when  she 
goes  back  to  camp.  Poor  old  woman  !  she  was  worn  out.  I 
fear  she  is  failing.  What  a  life  she  leads  !  But  there  is  one  good 
thing  about  it,  there  is  not  one  of  the  tribe  but  fear  her,  and  so 
she  is  treated  well.  They  think  she  has  the  power  of  casting  an 
evil  spell  over  any  one,  and  that  the  fairies,  good  and  bad,  obey 
her  will.  {Looks  off  L.)  Here  comes  Ashrael ;  I  was  just 
thinking  it  was  time  she  returned. 

Enter  Ashrael,  l.,  reading  aloud. 

Ashrael.  "  '  Advance  another  step  and  you  lie  dead  at  my 
feet ! '  said  Gwendoline,  and  as  she  looked  into  those  dark, 
burning  eyes,  the  white  jewelled  hand  that  held  the  revolver, 
dropped  lifelessly  at  her  side."  Pshaw  !  she  hadn't  the  spunk  of 
a  mouse.  These  folks  that  are  always  threatenin'  to  shoot 
never  do  it.  It  used  to  scare  me  some  when  Billy {Discov- 
ers Elinor.)  Ah,  are  you  there,  Miss  Elinor  ?  I  didn't  see 
you. 

Elinor.  No,  you  were  too  busy  reading.  What  makes  you 
read  such  stuff  as  that,  Ashrael  ? 


32  BREEZY  POINT. 

ASHRAEL.     Oh,  I  likes  it.     It  mal<es  me  feel  all  shivery  ! 

Elinor.  Is  that  a  pleasant  feeling?  But  how  about  your 
svveetiieart,  Billy  Griffin  ?  I  haven't  heard  you  talk  much  about 
liini  lately. 

ASHRAEL.  I  hain't  seen  him  alone,  'cause  that  French 
greenie  is  at  my  heels  most  of  the  time,  but  he's  jest  the  same,  I 
reckon.     He's  quiet,  but  I  know  he's  desprit. 

Elinor.     Still  going  to  shoot  himself  .-^ 

ASHRAEL.     Oh,  yes,  I  s'pose  so. 

Elinor.     What  a  dreadful  thing  it  would  be  if  he  should  ! 

ASHRAEL.  Yes,  of  course,  it  would  be  ruther  bad,  but 
'twould  advertise  me  well.  Jest  think  how  it  would  look  in  the 
papers  !  A  picture  of  Billy,  with  a  revolver  in  his  hand,  on  one 
side,  an'  me  on  the  other  with  "  Ashrael  Grant,  the  girl  he  died 
for,"  in  big  letters  over  my  head. 

Enter  Laura  and  Bernice,  r. 

Laura.  What  a  shame  you  had  to  catch  your  skirt  on  that 
hateful  old  nail,  just  as  we  were  ready  to  start  !  Halloo,  Elinor  ! 
Bernice  is  up  for  repairs. 

Elinor.  Here  is  Aunt  Debby's  basket ;  I'll  fix  it  for  you  in 
a  minute.         \Girls  up  R.     Elinor  kneels  nftd  sews  braid  on 

Bernice's  skirt. 

Ashrael  {going  up  r.).  Well,  I  guess  I'll  go  in  an*  see  if 
I  can  help  Miss  Dexter.  {Discovers  letter  on  tree.)  For  the 
land  sakes  I  what's  that  letter  up  there  for  ?  {Takingit  down.) 
"  Miss  Ashreel  Grant."  Why,  what  in  the  world  does  that  imp 
want  to  write  to  me  for  ?  Goodness  knows  I  see  enough  of  her 
without  writin'  I  but  she  don't  know  much  an'  I  hadn't  orter 
expect  she'd  act  as  if  she  had  common  sense.  She's  so  simple 
you  can  read  her  as  easy  as  if  she  was  made  of  glass.  ( Opens 
letter  and  reads.)  "  My  poor  Ashreel "  : — Poor  !  well,  I  like 
t^at,  "  You  called  me  a  greenhorn,  but  I  haf  made  one  big 
fool  of  you."  What  in  the  world  is  she  trying  to  get  at  ?  "I 
haf  stolen  your  little  Billie,  and  we  shall  be  m-married  to- 
night." 

[S/ie  stands  perfectly  rigid,  closes  eyes,  hands  clenched, 
and  gives  a  succession  of  shrill,  sharp  screams.  Aunt 
Debby  and  Clarice  rush  in,  girls  surround  her. 

All.     What  is  it,  Ashrael  ?  {She  continues  to  scream. 

Aunt  Debby  {shaking  her).  Speak,  Ashrael  !  Tell  me 
what  is  the  matter! 

Ashrael.     They've  run  away  !    Gone  to  be  married  I 

Elinor.     Who  ?     Who  has  run  away  ? 

Ashrael.  That  French  fiend  has  stolen  my  beau  I  Pursue 
'cm  !  handcuff  'em  !  gag  'em  ' 

All.    Fantine  1 


BREEZY   POINT.  33 

AsHRAEL.  Yes,  that  little  wrigglin*  snake  has  swiped  Billy 
Griffin  right  from  under  my  nose  !  And  him  a-goin*  to  shoot 
himself  'cause  I  wouldn't  have  him,  the  miserable  little  red- 
headed varmint ! 

Bernice.     Fantine  run  away  ? 

ASHRAEL.  Yes,  I  tell  you,  gone,  hide  an'  hair  of  *em ! 
[Bernice  and  Laura  run  off  r.,  Ashrael  walking 
stage  and  wringing  hands. 

Aunt  Debby.  Sit  down,  Ashrael,  and  be  quiet ;  calm  your- 
self. 

Ashrael.    I  can't  calm  myself !    I  won't ! 

Elinor.  What  makes  you  feel  so,  Ashrael  ?  You  didn't 
want  him. 

Ashrael.  Well,  I  didn't  intend  anyone  else  should  have 
him  !  And  there  that  critter  was  a-sneakin  out  to  meet  him 
nights,  an'  a-tellin  me  she  went  to  look  at  the  moon  ! 

Clarice.     Poor  Ashrael ! 

Ashrael.  Don't  call  me  that,  them's  her  words  !  «•  Poor 
Ashreel ! " 

Re-enter  Bernice  and  Laura  r.    Bernice,  Aunt  Debby 
and  Elinor  talk  apart  up  r. 

Clarice.     No  man  is  worth  grieving  for  like  that,  Ashrael. 

Ashrael.  It  hain't  so  much  the  man,  but  it's  the  shame  of 
havin'  the  wool  pulled  over  your  eyes  like  that ;  'specially  by  a 
little  measly  furriner  !  Oh,  I'd  jest  like  to  get  my  hands  on  to 
'cm  !  I'd  scratch  her  eyes  out  and  make  him  bald-headed  in 
less'n  five  minutes  !     I'd 

Bernice  {going  to  her).  Ashrael,  listen  to  me,  please.  I 
am  30  sorry  for  you,  indeed,  I  am  ! 

Ashrael.  Well,  you  needn't  be  !  He's  the  stingiest  thing 
alive  !  Gave  me  a  ring  once  and  it  turned  my  finger  black  as 
ink! 

Bernice.     I  was  completely  deceived  in  Fantine. 

Ashrael.  I  wasn't !  I  knew  she  was  a  villian  of  the 
deepest  dye.  Oh,  I'd  jest  like  to  use  her  for  a  dish-rag  !  The 
little  idjit,  to  leave  a  place  like  she  had  for  a  low-born  butcher  ! 
But  I  fooled  her  !  She  thought  he  was  a  doctor.  A  doctor  ! 
he  don't  know  enough  to  pick  the  feathers  off  a  hen  ! 

Bernice.  Ashrael,  how  would  you  like  to  take  Fantine's 
place  ? 

Ashrael.     What,  run  away  with  him  ? 

Bernice.     No,  stay  with  me. 

Ashrael.     Huh  ? 

Bernice.  How  would  you  like  tQ  take  Fantine's  place  an4 
go  to  Paris  with  me  ? 

3 


34  BREEZY    POINT. 

AsHRAEL.     To  Paris  ?     Me,  go  to  Paris  ?    Somebody  set  a 
chair  for  me,  quick  !     I  know  I  shall  faint — go  to  Paris  ! 
Bernice.     Aunt  Debby  is  willing. 
Aunt  Debby.     It's  a  great  chance  for  you,  Ashrael. 
Elinor.     The  chance  of  your  life. 

Ashrael.  Hooray  !  to  Paris  !  She's  welcome  to  all  the 
Billy  Griffins  from  here  to  Canada  line  !  You  mean  it,  miss  ? 
no  foolin'  ? 

Bernice.     I  am  very  much  in  earnest,  Ashrael. 
Ashrael.     Well,  there's  my  hand  !     I'll  stick  to  you  through 
thick  an'    thin  !     And  when  we  comes  back  from  our  travels, 
we'll  show  'em  the  stuff  American  citizens  are  made  of ! 

[Ashrael  an^i  Bernice  c.  Aunt  Debby  seated  r., 
Elinor  standing  by  her,  Laura  l.  with  arm  about 
Clarice. 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 


SCENE. — Same  as  Act  I.  Four  weeks  later.  Bell  on  table 
r.,  hat  on  couch  L.  Clarice  discovered  r.  of  table 
reading. 

Enter  Elinor  l. 

Elinor.  There  !  I  don't  believe  even  Aunt  Debby  could 
beat  that  frosting.  Oh  !  you  are  here,  Clarice.  I  thought  you 
had  gone  to  the  post-office. 

Clarice.  No,  Edith  went  and  the  girls  wouldn't  let  me  do 
one  thing  in  the  kitchen.  Laura  chased  me  out  with  the  broom 
and  Bernice  threw  a  pan  ot  pea-pods  after  me. 

Elinor  {laughing).  You  ought  to  see  them  !  Bernice  has 
made  some  cream-cakes  and  Laura  has  started  on  a  new 
receipt.  The  way  she  beats  eggs  would  develop  a  regular 
base-ball  muscle.  {Sits  L.,  at  small  table.)  I  feel  as  though  I 
were  in  a  dream  every  time  I  look  at  them,  with  their  sleeves 
rolled  up,  working  in  the  kitchen,  upstairs,  all  over  the  house. 
Wasn't  it  aggravating  that  the  cook's  cousin's  boy  should  break 
his  leg  the  very  next  day  after  Aunt  Debby  went  away  ? 

Clarice.  I  think  it  has  been  glorious  fun  keeping  house  ; 
only  there  isn't  work  enough  to  go  'round,  with  so  many  to 
help. 

Laura  {at  door  L.,  sleeves  rolled  up,Jlour  on  nose).  Where 
is  the  vanilla,  Elinor? 

Elinor.  Beside  the  package  of  corn-starch  on  the  second 
ihclf,    I'm  coming  right  out  and 


BREKZY   POINT.  35 

Laura.  No,  you  shan't  !  I'm  nervous  when  I  try  a  new 
receipt.     I've  just  sent  Bernice  upstairs.  [Exif. 

Clarice.  You  see,  Elinor,  you  are  a  sort  of  side  issue  in 
your  own  house. 

Elinor.  You  are  all  so  good  to  me  !  When  I  think  your 
vacation  is  over  and  you  are  only  staying  here  to  keep  me  com- 
pany, while  Aunt  Debby  is  gone,  and  that  you  are  risking 
Madame  Finikin's  displeasure,  it  makes  me  feel  guilty.  I  am 
afraid  your  vacation  will  be  anything  but  a  rest. 

Clarice.  We  promised  Aunt  Debby,  of  our  own  accord, 
not  to  leave  until  she  returned.  Bernice  and  Laura  are  not  go- 
ing back  to  school  and  it  will  make  but  little  difference  if  Edith 
and  I  miss  a  few  weeks.  She  gets  her  tuition  just  the  same, 
and  that  is  what  the  madame  is  looking  after.  But,  I  say, 
Elinor,  hasn't  it  been  rather  lively  about  here  for  a  fortnight? 
My  head  has  been  in  a  perfect  whirl  ever  since  we  got  back 
from  camp,  two  weeks  ago.  Fantine  started  the  ball  rolling 
when  she  eloped  with  Ashrael's  beau. 

Elinor.  That  was  a  blessing  in  disguise  ;  but  when  old 
Clem  came  up  here  one  day,  and  was  taken  sick  and  died, 
that  cast  a  shadow  over  us  all. 

Clarice.     And  the  next  day  Aunt  Debby  was  called  away. 

Elinor.  She  wouldn't  even  tell  me  where  she  was  going.  I 
cannot  think  why  she  acted  like  that,  so  quiet  and  strange  ;  she 
was  never  that  way  with  me  before.  [  Wiping  eyes. 

Clarice  {going  to  her).  There,  Elinor,  don't  grieve  over 
it !  You  are  the  apple  of  Aunt  Debby 's  eye,  and  you  may  be 
sure  there  was  some  good  reason  for  her  silence.  May  be  it 
was  some  business  that  she  thought  might  worry  you. 

Elinor.     I  am  almost  sure  of  that. 

Clarice.     Haven't  you  any  idea  where  she  has  gone  ? 

Elinor.  Yes,  Aunt  Debby 's  brother  died,  out  in  Kansas, 
last  winter,  and  his  affairs  were  badly  involved.  I  feel  almost 
sure  that  she  was  sent  for  to  go  there  ;  and  if  there  was 
anything  wrong  she  would  not  tell  me  until  she  was  obliged  to 
do  so.  But  if  she  knew  that  the  hired  help  had  deserted  us,  and 
that  you  girls  had  been  working,  she  would  be  ill  with  anxiety. 

Clarice.  Why  do  you  give  yourself  so  much  uneasiness 
about  the  work  }  {Siis  L.  oj  table.)  It  has  been  absolute 
fun  !  and  although  I  was  sorry  for  Jane  when  she  was  "  took 
with  a  felon,"  yet  if  she  had  to  be  "  took,"  I  was  glad  it  was  at 
that  time. 

Enter  Bernice  l. 

Bernice.  Laura  puts  on  all  the  airs  of  a  French  cook.  She 
has  even  chased  the  cat  out  of  the  kitchen,  for  fear  she  would 
jar  the  stove  and  make  the  cake  fall. 


3 6  BREEZY   POINT. 

Elinor.     And  here  I  am  resting,  while  she  is  at  work  ! 

Bernice.  Work  ?  Why  it's  the  opportunity  of  her  life  to 
show  us  how  much  she  learned  at  cooking-school  last  winter. 
Well,  there  is  a  certain  kind  of  excitement  when  she  tries  a 
new  dish,  to  see  if  it  kills  any  of  us.  \Si/s  R.  of  table. 

Elinor  {laughing).  The  only  trouble  is  that  she  makes 
everything  so  good  it  doesn't  last,  and  it  keeps  her  cooking  ail 
the  time. 

Clarice.  She  made  a  fatal  mistake  yesterday  morning.  The 
twins  called  arid  Laura  had  just  made  a  dozen  tartlets  ;  they 
eyed  them  hungrily,  so  our  dear  little  cook  says :  "  Help 
yourselves,  my  dears  ;  "  and  they  did,  for  not  a  tartlet  remained 
to  tell  the  tale  ! 

Elinor  {laughing).  No  doubt  they  were  sick  all  night,  and 
Mrs.  Hardscratch  dosed  them  with  thoroughwort  tea.  But 
where  is  Ashrael  !     I  haven't  seen  her  this  morning. 

Bernice.  I  sent  her  to  the  village  for  some  things.  I  have 
been  making  a  note  of  everything  I  heard  any  one  express  a 
wish  for,  and  I  started  her  off  bright  and  early.  It  is  time  she 
returned.  [Rises,  looks  ofc, 

Clarice  {laughing).     Isn't  she  proud  of  her  new  position  ? 

Bernice.  It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  that  I  was  able  to 
recompense  her  somewhat  for  the  loss  of  her  sweetheart. 

Elinor.  Poor  Ashrael  !  She  has  always  been  "  aspirin'," 
and  the  thought  of  going  to  Paris  nearly  intoxicates  her.  You 
were  born  there,  were  you  not,  Bernice  1 

Bernice.  Yes,  it  was  my  home  until  I  was  twelve  years 
old  ;  then  mamma  died  and  papa  never  wanted  to  see  the  place 
again.  {Sits  on  hassock  by  Elinor.)  For  several  years  we 
travelled  incessantly,  always  trying  to  find  some  nook  where 
he  would  be  content.  Ah,  how  he  loved  my  pretty  golden- 
haired  mother  !  I  have  seen  him  sit  for  hours  with  her  picture 
in  his  hand,  gazing  at  it  so  tenderly,  and  whispering  such 
loving  words  that,  child  as  I  was,  I  would  creep  into  a  corner 
and  cry  for  him,  as  much  as  for  myself. 

Elinor.     Poor  little  girl ! 

Bernice.  Then  he  would  call  me  to  him,  take  my  face  in 
his  hands,  and  kiss  my  forehead  and  my  eyes,  because  they 
were  like  my  mother's,  he  would  say.  I  had  an  old  nurse,  but 
she  was  garrulous  and  her  constant  chatter  fretted  him,  so  I 
was  alone  with  him  most  of  the  time. 

Clarice.  How  did  you  learn  so  much,  Bernice,  flitting,  as 
you  were,  from  place  to  place  ?  I  remember  when  you  came  to 
Madame  Finikin's,  you  were  in  advance  of  nearly  all  the  girls. 

Bernice.  My  father  taught  me  faithfully.  He  was  the 
closest  student  I  ever  knew,  and  when  I  was  very  small  he 
nearly  always  spoke  to  me  in  German  or  Italian,  ^nd  old  Ma« 


BREEZY   POINT.  37 

thilde  was  French,  so  I  was  versed  in  those  languages  very 
young. 

Elinor.     Was  he  an  invalid,  Bernice  ? 

Bernice.  Not  until  my  mother  died  ;  then  life  seemed  but 
a  weary  waiting  until  he  should  join  her.  His  only  regret  was 
in  leaving  me  ;  but  after  we  came  to  New  York,  and  he  found 
Mr.  Livingstone,  a  friend  of  his  boyhood,  who  consented  to 
become  my  guardian,  and  in  whom  my  father  had  implicit  con- 
fidence, a  great  burden  was  lifted  from  him  and  he  gave  up 
his  life,  day  by  day,  so  happily. 

Elinor.  It  must  have  been  so  sad  for  you,  Bernice,  to 
know  he  was  slipping  from  you  ! 

Bernice.  Sometimes,  at  twilight,  I  would  sit  by  his  bed- 
side, with  my  head  on  his  pillow,  and  he  would  say  :  «•  May  be 
before  another  month  I  shall  see  your  mother,  dear."  I  shall 
never  forget  the  night  he  died.  He  was  delirious,  and  in  fancy 
he  was  wooing  my  mother.  He  seemed  to  be  walking  with 
her  in  some  lovely  lane,  where  the  trees  were  full  of  blossoms 
and  the  birds  sang  in  their  branches.  I  remember  seeing  him 
reach  up  to  pick  their  blossoms,  and  then  he  would  try  to 
fashion  them  into  a  wreath  for  her  hair.  He  said  :  "  Hear 
that  linnet  sing  !     He  is  pleading  my  cause,  Janette." 

Elinor  {stroking  her  hair).  Poor  Bernice  !  it  was  terrible 
for  you  ! 

Bernice.  Just  before  he  died  he  asked  her  to  become  his 
wife.  I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  on  his  face,  as  he 
seemed  to  catch  her  answer  and,  raising  his  arms,  he  folded 
something  to  his  breast  that  our  eyes  could  not  see,  and  mur- 
muring, "  Sweetheart,  naught  shall  divide  us,"  he  gently 
breathed  his  last. 

Elinor.     I  am  afraid  this  recital  has  pained  you,  Bernice. 

Bernice  {rises).  No.  It  is  always  a  pleasure  to  speak  of 
my  father.  He  was  so  happy  to  go,  I  would  not  have  detained 
him  if  I  could.  I  have  much  to  be  grateful  for,  much  to  make 
n>e  happy. 

Enter  Laura  l. 

Laura.     It's  done,  and  it's  a  dream  ! 

Clarice.     What  ?  [Rises, 

Laura.     The  cake. 

Clarice.  I'm  afraid  we  will  find  it  a  reality  that  will  be  a 
heavy  burden. 

Bernice.     Maybe  we  will  have  the  dream  after  we  eat  it. 

Laura.  You  just  say  two  more  words,  either  of  you,  and 
you  shan't  have  a  morsel  !  You  shall  just  look  on  and  watch 
the  rest  of  us  eat  it.  [Knock  at  door,  L. 

Elinor  {rises).    Come  in. 


38  BREEZY   POINT. 

Enter  the  Hardscratch  Twins,  l. 

Bethia.     Ma  sent  us  over  to  see  if  we  could  help  you  any. 

Sophia.     Do  let  us  help  you  ! 

Elinor.  My  dear  little  girls,  we  are  fairly  over  run  with 
help. 

Bernice  {to  Elinor).  See  how  disappointed  they  look  ! 
We  must  find  something  for  them  to  do. 

Elinor.  Take  your  sun-bonnets  off,  and  I  will  see  what  I 
can  do  for  you.  \^Exit  L.;  the  Twins  sit  on  couch. 

Clarice.     Why  aren't  you  at  school,  girls  ? 

Bethia.  The  teacher's  feller  has  got  a  fever,  and  she's  gone 
for  a  week.  She's  got  Lorinda  Holmes  to  take  her  place,  and 
mother  says  she  don't  know  beans,  so  we  needn't  go  to  school 
til  teacher  gets  back. 

Bernice  {laughing).     Oh,  I  see. 

Bethia.  Mother  lairly  hates  the  Holmeses  !  When  the  fair 
was  down  to  Gallville,  last  year,  mother  sent  a  quilt  with  nine 
hundred  and  ninety-nine  pieces  in  it  an'  some  pickled  pears. 
Lorinda  Holmes  sent  a  quilt  with  a  thousand  pieces  an'  she 
took  the  prize. 

Sophia.  An'  her  pickled  pears  had  cloves  stuck  in  'em,  an* 
mother's  didn't,  so  she  took  the  prize  on  them  too,  an'  mother 
hain't  spoke  to  her  sence.  [Girls  laugh. 

Re-enter  Elinor  L.  with  an  earthen  dish,  knife  and  dish 
of  raisins. 

Elinor.  Here,  girls,  I've  found  something  for  you  to  do. 
{Arranges  chairs  for  them,  c.)  Sit  here  and  stone  these 
raisins.  {Exit  Bernice  c.  Twins  sit  c.)  Let  me  show  you 
how  to  do  it.  Pull  them  apart,  so,  and  take  the  seeds  out  with 
this  little  knife,  like  that. 

Bethia.     Oh,  that's  easy  ! 

Sophia.     Awtul  easy  ! 

Re-enter  Bernice  c,  with  dress-skirt  on  arm. 

Bernice.  And  when  you  have  finished,  run  into  the  kitchen 
and  wash  your  hands  carefully,  then  you  may  rip  the  binding  off 
this  skirt.  {Puts  it  on  chair  R.)  You  will  find  two  pairs  of 
scissors  in  the  work-basket,  on  the  table. 

Bethia.     We  know  how  to  do  that,  don't  we,  Sophia  ? 

Sophia.  Yes,  that  ain't  nothin' ;  we  rip  all  of  mother's  clothes 
to  make  over  for  us. 

Elinor.  Well,  I'm  going  to  tie  up  that  rose-vine,  over  the 
porch. 

Clarice.    I'll  go  with  you. 

\Exeunt  Clarice  and  Elinor,  c 


BREEZY   POINT.  39 

Laura.  Come  on,  Bernice,  let's  lie  in  the  hammock,  and 
see  if  it  is  artistically  done,  {Picking  hat  2ip  from  couch.) 
No,  I  shan't  need  my  hat.  [Throws  it  again  on  couch. 

Bernice.     Who  ever  heard  of  a  hat  in  a  hammock  ! 

Laura.  Well,  I  can  imagine  occasions  when  they  might  be 
in  the  way.  [Exeunt  Laura  and  Bernice  c.  laughing. 

Bethia.  Give  me  half  of  *em  in  my  apron,  an'  you  take  the 
other  half,  then  we  can  each  of  us  have  a  dish  to  put  'em  in. 

[  They  divide  raisins. 

Bethia  {eating  them).  This  is  a  good  deal  better  than  wash- 
ing down  the  back  steps  at  home. 

Sophia  {eating).  Yes,  or  weedin*  the  onion  bed.  W^c  don't 
have  no  raisins  at  our  house. 

Bethia.  I  guess  not  I  When  I  get  married  it  won't  be  to 
a  deacon.  [They  eat  raisins,  only  putting  one  in  dish 

occasionally. 

Sophia.     What  will  it  be  ? 

Bethia.  Oh,  a  grocery-man  !  and  I'll  have  the  house 
chuck  full  of  good  stuff  to  eat.     What  be  you  goin'  to  marry  ? 

Sophia.  Oh,  a  man  what  keeps  a  store  !  and  I'll  havenew 
dresses  every  day  in  the  week,  with  long  trails  to  'em. 

Bethia.     Shan't  you  hold  'em  up  ? 

Sophia.  No  !  jest  trail  'em  right  through  the  mud  an*  dirt, 
as  if  they  didn't  cost  a  cent.  What  should  I  care  ?  The  store 
would  be  full  of  'em  ! 

Bethia.  Pr'aps  your  husban'  wouldn't  give  'em  to  you  ! 
Pr'aps  he'd  run  off  an'  leave  you  ! 

Sophia.     Well,  he  couldn't  take  the  store. 

Bethia  {eating  last  raisin  in  her  lap,  looks  at  dish  a.p4 
holds  it  down).  Here,  hand  me  your  dish,  an' I'll  empty  my 
raisins  into  it. 

Sophia  {looking  at  her  dish  and  holding  it  down).  No, 
hand  me  yours. 

Bethia  {facing  her).  Sophia  Zeniah  Hardscratch,  I'll  bet 
you've  eat  them  raisins  ! 

Sophia.     I  hain't  eat  'em  all. 

Bethia.     How  many  you  got  ? 

Sophia  {looking  in  dish\.     Six  ;  how  many  have  you  ? 

Bethia  {looking  in  dish).  Four.  {Facing  each  other, 
stare  blankly.)     What  are  we  goin'  to  do  ? 

Sophia.  Eat  the  rest  of  'em  an'  say  the  cat  got  'em  when  we 
went  to  wash  our  hands. 

Bethia.     Yes,  I  guess  that's  'bout  all  we  can  do. 

{They  eat  raisins  a7td place  one  dish  in  other,  and 
set  them  on  floor. 

Sophia.     I  don't  like  raisins  so  awful  well,  do  you  ? 

Bethia.    No,  they're  kind  of  sickish. 


40  BREEZY    POINT. 

Sophia  {wiping  hands  on  apron).  My  hands  ain't  very 
sticky,  are  yours  ? 

Bethia  {putting  fingers  in  mouth  and  wiping  them  on 
apron).     Not  so  very. 

Sophia.  Let's  not  wash.  {Taking  up  skirt.)  That's  an 
awful  pretty  skirt,  ain't  it  ?  I'm  goin'  to  have  one  jest  like  it 
when  I  marries  the  man  what  keeps  store.  {Putting  skirt  on.) 
Play  I  lived  here  and  you  was  my  hired  girl. 

Bethia.     I  ain't  a  goin'  to  be  no  hired  girl  ! 

Sophia.  Oh,  jest  for  a  few  minutes,  then  you  can  dress  up. 
[Walks  up  and  down,  looking  at  train.)  You  go  out  there 
{nods  left)  and  I'll  ring  for  you. 

Bethia.     What  if  them  girls  should  come  ? 

Sophia.     Oh,  we'll  watch  for  'em. 

[Bethia  goes  to  door  l.    Sophia  rings  bell,  at  table  R., 
and  Bethia  comes  down  stage, 

Sophia.     Bridget  Ann  Burke,  you  don't  earn  your  salt. 

Bethia.     Please,  marm,  I  don't  eat  salt. 

Sophia.     Have  you  mowed  the  lawn  ? 

Bethia.     Yes,  marm. 

Sophia.     And  milked  the  ten  cows  ? 

Bethia.     Yes,  marm. 

Sophia.     And  scoured  my  di'mond  ring  ? 

Bethia.     Yes,  marm,  an'  I'm  awful  tired. 

Sophia.  Well,  you  may  rest  while  you  tie  my  shoe.  (Bethia 
stoops  and  ties  her  shoe.)  Bridget  Ann  Burke,  who  was  that 
man  I  saw  in  the  kitchen  last  night  ? 

Bethia.     He  was  my  first  cousin. 

Sophia.     What  was  he  doin'  here  ? 

Bethia.     Nothin',  marm. 

Sophia.  He  was  !  He  was  eatin*  pie.  I  saw  him  with  both 
of  my  eyes.  I  hid  that  piece  of  pie  for  my  brekfus',  an'  you  let 
him  have  it.     You  can't  work  for  me  no  more. 

Bethia  {kneeling  and  clinging  to  skirt).  Oh,  please,  marm, 
don't  turn  me  off!  I've  got  ten  brothers  an'  eight  sisters 
a-starvin' ! 

Sophia.  Rise  up  on  to  your  feet.  There  is  a  half  a  loaf  of 
bread  in  the  buttery ;  give  it  to  'em  an'  never  show  your 
face  here  no  more  !  Stop  your  weepin',  an'  hand  me  that  hat ! 
{Points  to  hat  on  couch.)     I'm  a-goin'  to  the  circus. 

[Bethia  gives  her  hat  ;  she  puts  it  on,  and 
walks  up  stage. 

Bethia.  Let  me  go,  too,  marm  !  I  want  to  see  the  snake- 
charmer.     She  is  my  sister. 

Sophia.  Bridget  Ann  Burke,  never  speak  to  me  no  more  I 
I  do  not  'sociate  with  snake-charmers'  sisters  ! 


BREEZY    POINT.  4t 

Enter  ELINOR,  Bernice,  Laura  and  Clarice  c,  they  start 
in  astonishment. 

Bernice.  Why,  Sophia !  what  does  this  mean  ?  Why  did 
you  put  that  skirt  on  ? 

Bethia.  I — I — ^jest  had  her  slip  it  on  to  see  where  we  had 
better  begin  to  rip. 

Elinor.     Oh,  Bethia ! 

Clarice.     Where  were  you  going  with  my  hat,  Sophia  ? 

Sophia.     I — I  put  it  on  'cause  my  head  was  cold. 

\Girls  laugh, 

Elinor.     Take  those  things  off  at  once,  Sophia. 

{She  takes  them  off.     Bethia  assisting  her. 

Laura  {discovering  empty  dishes).  Where  are  the  raisins, 
girls  ? 

Bethia.     Ain't  they  there  ?    The  cat  must  have  eat  'em. 

Bernice.  Oh,  girls,  girls,  I  am  afraid  you  did  not  go  to 
Sunday-school  last  week. 

Sophia.  Yes,  we  did,  and  mother  made  us  learn  twenty-seven 
verses  in  the  Bible. 

Laura.     Poor  little  imps  !  don't  scold  them. 

Elinor.     You  haven't  been  good  girls  and  I'm  very  sorry. 

Bethia.     So  be  we. 

Sophia.     Awful  sorry ! 

Bethia.  Miss  Elinor,  you  won't  tell  ma  we  were — were 
bad,  will  you  ? 

Elinor.     What  would  she  do  ? 

Bethia.     Lick  us  like  everything. 

Sophia.     Oh,  like  everything! 

Bernice  {to  Elinor).  Life  can't  be  very  jolly  for  them. 
No,  girls,  we  won't  tell  that  you  have  been  naughty  this  time, 
if  you'll  never  do  so  any  more. 

Bethia.     We  won't,  honest  and  true  ! 

Sophia.     Hope  to  die,  if  we  do. 

Bernice.  Well,  here  are  some  pennies  for  you.  {Gives 
them  money.)     You  can  buy  some  candy  and  then  go  home. 

Bethia.     You're  awful  good  ! 

Sophia.     Yes,  you  be  !  [Exeunt  Bethia  and  Sophia,  c. 

Elinor  {laughing).  That's  the  way  Bernice  punishes  them 
for  being  naughty. 

Bernice.  W^ell,  haven't  they  got  Mrs.  Hardscratch  for  a 
mother  ?  and  isn't  that  punishment  enough  ?  Why  the  sight 
of  that  woman [Knock  heard. 

Elinor.     Hush  !  some  one  is  at  the  door.    Come  in  ! 
Enter  Mehitible  Doolittle,  l. 

Mehitible.  Oh,  you're  here,  be  you  ?  I  couldn't  find  any 
one  in  the  kitchen. 


42  BREEZY    POINT. 

Elinor.     Good-morning,  Miss  Doolittle.     Come  in. 

Bernice.     You  are  quite  a  stranger. 

Clarice.     Yes  ;  we  were  speaking  of  you  yesterday. 

Laura.     Where  have  you  kept  yourself? 

Mehitiele.  Well,  I've  been  middlin'  busy.  {Sits  L.)  I've 
been  tackin'  comfortables,  cannin'  plums,  an'  gettin'  ready  gen- 
erally. [Bernice  an^  Laura  on  couch. 

Bernice.     Oh,  yes,  for  the  wedding.     When  is  it  ? 

Mehitible.     In  jest  two  weeks. 

Elinor.     Two  weeks  !  and  then  you'll  be  an  elder's  wife. 

[Sits  R. 

Mehitible.     Yes  ;  it's  quite  an  undertakin'. 

Laura.     Has  he  been  married  more  than  once  before  ? 

Mehitible.     La,  yes,  three  times. 

Clarice  {sits  l.  of  table).  Then  he's  used  to  "  under- 
takin'." 

Mehitible.  He's  always  a  referrin'  to  the  way  Almiry, 
Dorcas  or  Phoebe  did  this,  or  that.  1  intend  to  cure  him  of 
such  talk  as  that.  He  was  showin'  me  over  the  house  one  day, 
and  I  saw  a  closet  chuck  full  of  dresses,  sacks,  bunnits,  an'sich. 
"  For  the  land  sake!"  says  I,  "whose  be  these?"  "Them 
belonged  to  the  dear  departed.  I've  left  six  hooks,  for  I  shall 
never  marry  but  once  more,"  says  he,  smilin*  kinder  pityin'  like 
at  me.  "Wall,"  says  I,  "you  never  cared  much  for  dress,  an*  I 
reckon  those  six  hooks'll  be  enough  for  your  clothes."  He  looked 
awful  queer.  \^Girls  laugh. 

Clarice.     I  can  imagine  he  would. 

Mehitible.  Which  one  of  you  girls  was  it  that  took  the 
twins'  picture  ? 

Bernice.     I  am  accountable  for  that,  Miss  Doolittle. 

Mehitible.  They  beat  all  I  ever  see  !  Jest  as  nat'ral  as 
life. 

Bernice.     We  thought  they  finished  very  well. 

Mehitible.  They  did,  for  a  fact !  an'  I've  been  try  in'  to  get 
time,  for  two  or  three  days,  to  run  down  an'  ask  you  if  you 
wouldn't  take  mine. 

Bernice.  Take  your  picture.  Miss  Doolittle  ?  Why  I  should 
be  delighted.     Just  let  me  get  my  camera.  [Exit  c. 

Mehitible!     I'm  afraid  it's  makin'  an  awful  lot  of  trouble. 

Laura.  Trouble  1  Why  nothing  pleases  Bernice  so  much 
as  to  have  a  new  subject.  She  has  taken  everything  about  the 
place,  even  to  the  pigs  and  hens. 

Re-enter  Bernice,  c,  with  camera. 

Bernice.     Here  we  are,  Miss  Doolittle  ! 

Mehitible.     Wall,  I  was  thinkin*  I'd  like  one  for  the  elder, 

Elinor.     I  am  sure  he  would  prize  it. 


BREEZY   POINT.  43 

Mehitible.  And  I  want  it  to  be  a  little  out  of  the  ordinary 
iun  of  pictures. 

Bernice  {puzzled).     A  little  out  of  the  ordinary  run  ? 

Mehitible.  Yes  ;  I  want  it  to  mean  something.  You  see  I 
won  the  elder's  heart  with  my  catarrh  snuff;  so  I  thought  it 
would  be  ruther  'propriate  to  have  it  took  with  a  box  in  my 
hand  ! 

Bernice  {laughing).  Oh,  I  understand  !  a  symbolical  pic- 
ture. 

Mehitible.     Yes,  diabolical,  that's  it ! 

Bernice.     Now  stand  right  here,  please.  \Places  her  C 

Mehitible  {taking  box  from  pocket).  There,  how's  this  ? 
I'll  jest  hold  the  box  so,  and  the  other  hand   over  my  heart,  so. 

[Takes  position  indicated. 

Bernice.    Capital  !  [Girls  laugh,  aside. 

Clarice.     Yes,  that  is  very  artistic. 

Elinor.     How  pleased  the  elder  will  be  ! 

Mehitible  {still  posing).  Yes,  he'll  laugh  nigh  out  loud 
when  he  sees  it,  he'll  be  so  tickled. 

Bernice.     Now  stand  perfectly  quiet, 

Mehitible.    Wait  till  I  swaller.     I  s'pose  I  mustn't  wink. 

[Stares  vacantly. 

Bernice.  There  !  I  expect  that  will  be  the  best  picture  I've 
taken  yet !  [Mehitible  has  not  moved, 

Clarice.    It  cannot  fail  to  be. 

Bernice.     That's  all.  Miss  Doolittle.     The  picture  is  taken. 

Mehitible.     Want  to  know  !    Quick  work,  hain't  it. 

Bernice.  Yes,  rather.  The  elder  won't  have  to  wait  long 
before  he  shall  have  his  picture.  [Exit  C. 

Mehitible.  I  mean  to  frame  it  in  green  moss  before  I  send 
it.  I  don't  intend  to  let  Samanthy  know  nothin'  about  it.  She'd 
think  'twas  awful  silly  ;  but  she  was  kinder  frisky,  herself,  be- 
fore she  caught  the  deacon.  I  remember  when  she  was  courtin* 
him,  she  made  him  let  his  hair  grow,  so's  she  could  have  a 
bracelet  made  out  of  it.  His  hair  never  was  so  awful  thick, 
so  she  used  part  horse-hair. 

Clarice  {laughing).  People  who  are  in  love  will  do 
strange  things.     Girls  will  be  girls,  you  know. 

Mehitible  {giggling).  Yes,  we  all  must  have  our  day. 
{Re-enter  Bernice,  c.)     I'm  awful  obleeged  to  you. 

Bernice.     Don't  mention  it ;  you  are  very  welcome. 

Mehitible.  Wall,  I  must  hurry  home  'cause  I've  got  to 
string  some  beans  for  dinner.  When's  Miss  Dexter  comin* 
home  ? 

Elinor.  She  did  not  tell  us  just  when,  but  I  expect  her  any 
day. 

Mehitible.    Started  rather  suddint,  didn't  she. 


44  BREEZY   POINT. 

Elinor.     Rather. 

Mehitible.  Wall,  that's  the  way  to  have  the  best  time  ;  jest 
start  right  off,  without  tirin' yourself  outgittin'  ready.  {Going.) 
Good-bye  all. 

Girls.     Good-bye,  Miss  Doolittle  ! 

Elinor.     Come  again.  [Exit  Mehitible,  l. 

Bernice.     What  will  the  elder  say  when  he  sees  that  picture  ? 

Clarice.     He  won't  say  anything  ;  he'll  be  struck  dumb. 

ASHRAEL  (outside).     Yes,  'tis  awful  hot  walkin'  in  the  sun. 

Bernice.     Here's  Ashrael  at  last. 

Enter  Ashrael,  with  bag. 

Ashrael.  There  !  I  b'leeve  I  hain't  forgot  nothin'.  {Takes 
packages  from  bag  and  puts  them  on  table,  R.)  There's  the 
salted  almonds  for  you.  Miss  Elinor. 

Elinor.     How  good  of  you  to  remember,  Bernice. 

Ashrael.     And  a  box  of  candy  for  you,  Miss  Clarice. 

Clarice.     Oh,  Bernice ! 

Ashrael.  Writin'  paper,  two  yards  blue  ribbon,  four  yards 
of  lace,  three  spools  ot  silk,  and  a  crochet-hook  for  you.  Miss 
Bernice.     {Wiping  J  ace.)     Whew!  it's  awful  hot  I 

Bernice.     You  were  a  long  time,  Ashrael. 

Ashrael.     Yes,  I  was  detained  a  little.     Guess  who  I  saw  ? 

Elinor.     The  twins. 

Ashrael.  Twins  ?  no  !  One  of  a  kind  will  do  for  me.  {To 
Bernice.)    Can't  you  guess  ? 

Bernice.     I've  no  idea. 

Ashrael.  Give  it  up,  hey  >  Well,  I  saw  Billy  Griffin, 
a-lias,  the  runaway  lover. 

Girls.     No  ! 

Ashrael.  Yes,  I  did,  as  true  as  I  live  !  and  I  gave  him  a 
lesson  he  won't  forget  in  a  hurry. 

Elinor.     What  did  you  do,  Ashrael  ? 

Ashrael.  I  was  just  comin'  out  of  Rogerses  store  when  I 
met  him  face  to  face. 

Bernice.     Did  he  speak  ? 

Elinor.     How  did  he  look  ? 

ASHREAL.  Turrible  !  just  as  if  he'd  had  a  fit  of  sickness.  I 
purtended  not  to  see  him,  but  he  walked  right  up  an'  said  ! 
«'  Oh,  Ashrael,  how  could  I  ever  have  done  it !  "  "  Sir  ?  "  said  I 
with  an  awful  vacant  stare.  "  Oh,  Ashrael  !  "  he  says  agin, 
"she's  a  reg'lar  fiend,  an'  I   wish    I    was  dead  forty  times  a 

day  !     I'd  rather  have  your  little  finger,  than "     "  My  good 

man,"  says  I,  «'  you  must  be  insane.  I  have  never  sot  eyes  on 
you  before  !  "  [Girls  laugh, 

Clarice.    Oh,  Ashrael ! 

Elinor.    Did  you  say  that  ? 


BREEZY   POINT.  45 

AsHRAEL.  I  jest  did  !  an'  he  ketched  hold  of  my  sleeve,  an* 
says  :  "  You  don't  know  me,  Ashrael  ?  Ah  this  is  more  crueller 
than  death  !  "  Jest  then  a  perliceman  came  along  an'  I  says  : 
"  Mister  Perlice,  here's  a  man  what's  crazy  as  a  loon.  I  was 
just  makin'  a  few  purchases,  pre'vus  to  goin'  to  Paris,  an'  he 
insists  on  molestin' me.  I  wish  you'd  take  him  in  charge."  An' 
he  hooked  on  to  Billy's  arm  in  spite  of  him  a  tryin'  to  explain, 
an'  the  last  thing  I  seen,  he  was  a  yankin'  him  down  the  street. 

[Girls  laugh. 

Bernice.    Served  him  right,  Ashrael. 

Laura.     "  Hell  hath  no  tury  like  a  woman  scorned  !  " 

Ashrael  {shocked,  aside  to  Bernice).  Land  sake  !  does 
she  swear  ? 

Bernice  {laughing).  Oh,  no.  That  was  a  quotation, 
Ashrael. 

Ashrael.     Well,  it  sounded  to  me  like  swearin'. 

Elinor.     You  are  well  rid  of  that  fellow,  Ashrael. 

Ashrael.  I  reckon  I  know  it.  Well,  I'll  just  run  upstairs 
an'  slick  up  your  room,  Miss  Bernice,  an*  then,  if  there's  any- 
thing to  do,  I'll  be  ready  for  it. 

Bernice.  Come,  Laura,  we'll  go  with  you.  There  are  ever  so 
many  things  to  do. 

Ashrael.     Well,  I'm  just  the  girl  to  tackle  'em  ! 

[Exit  Bernice,  Laura  and  Ashrael,  c. 

Elinor.  How  glad  I  am  Ashrael  is  so  happy  !  She  is  a 
rough  diamond,  but  the  worth  is  there,  and  polishing  will 
show  what  she  really  is.  Now  I'm  going  into  the  garden  to 
pick  some  currants,  and  if  Aunt  Debby  doesn't  come  home  right 
away  I'll  try  my  hand  at  currant  jelly. 

Clarice.     I'll  go  with  you. 

Elinor.  No,  the  sun  is  hot  and  your  head  will  ache.  Just 
keep  cool,  my  dear,  that's  my  advice.  [Exit  L. 

Clarice.  May  be  she  is  right.  The  sun  plays  havoc  with 
my  weak  head.  {Drops  into  chair  R.)  Dear  me,  I  haven't 
the  strength  of  a  mouse.  I'm  indigo  all  of  the  time  and  it's  a 
perfect  force  trying  to  be  jolly  for,  as  Lowell  says  :  "  When  I'm 
smiley  'round  the  mouth,  I'm  teary  'round  the  lashes."  Heigho  ! 
I'd  never  have  believed,  two  years  ago,  that  any  man  could 
have  given  me  such  a  heartache.  Maybe  it's  Edith's  engage- 
ment that  makes  my  own  trouble  seem  harder.  Dear  little 
girl,  how  happy  she  is  !  I  hope  nothing  will  ever  happen  to 
destroy  her  trust.  [Leans  head  on  hand. 

Enter  Edith  with  letter  in  hand,  c. 

Edith.  Oh,  I'm  so  out  of  breath  and  my  head  is  spinning 
round  like  a  top  !     I  must  find  Clare  at  once.     {Discovers  her,) 


46  BREEZY   POINT. 

Oh,  there  you  are  !    Clarice  Fenleigh,  I  was  never  so  happy  in 
my  life  !     I  could  scream,  dance,  run  ! 

Clarice  {rising).     What  in  the  world  is  thg  matter,  Edith  ! 

Edith.  Lots  !  Oh,  dear,  let  me  get  these  gloves  off  and  sit 
down  and  gather  my  wits,  like  a  rational  being. 

[Refnoves  hat  and  gloves. 

Clarice.  Sit  here,  dear,  and  get  cool.  {She  sits  l.  of  table 
R.)  Here  is  a  fan.  {Gives  fan.)  You  have  been  rather  flighty 
for  several  weeks,  but  I've  never  seen  you  quite  as  bad  as  this. 
What  is  it  ?  {Sits  R.  of  table.)  Has  some  wonderful  good 
fortune  befallen  Dick  ? 

Edith.     Oh,  he's  the  dearest,  best  boy  in  all  the  world  ! 

Clarice.     No  doubt  of  it,  I  shall  offer  no  argument. 

[Laughs. 

Edith.     And  I  would  hug  him,  if  he  were  here. 

Clarice.    Oh  ! 

Edith.     And  so  would  you. 

Clarice.     No,  I  wouldn't. 

Edith.  Then  you'd  be  an  ungrateful  little  minx  !  Oh,  I 
was  positive  he'd  do  it  !  but  I  didn't  say  a  word.  Do  you  see 
that  letter,  miss  ?  [Holding  up  letter, 

Clarice.  I  see  an  envelope  ;  cream  color,  ordinary  size, 
nothing  extraordinary  to  look  at. 

Edith.  You  just  wait !  That  letter  will  make  you  so  happy 
you  won't  know  where  you're  at  !     That  letter  is  from  Dick. 

Clarice.  How  can  it  interest  me  ?  Edith,  I  thought  you  had 
left  off  using  slang. 

Edith.  I  don't  care  a  rap  about  slang !  Oh,  dear,  where 
shall  I  begin  ! 

Clarice  {laughing).     Begin  at  the  end. 

Edith.  Good  idea  !  Well,  then,  Miss  Clarice  Fenleigh,  you 
will  be  engaged  to  Charles  Grierson,  Jr.,  this  very  night. 

Clarice  {rising).    Edith  ! 

Edith.  There,  there,  sit  down  and  get  ready  to  be  happy. 
(Clarice  sits.)  Well,  you  know  that  day  I  went  driving  with 
Dick  ? 

Clarice.    Yes. 

Edith.  Well,  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  where  Charlie  was, 
and  he  said  he  left  him  in  the  Adirondacks  ;  that  he  tried  to  have" 
him  come  up  here  with  him,  but  he  refused  when  he  learned 
you  were  here. 

Clarice  {bitterly).     Naturally. 

Edith.  Well,  then,  I  just  told  Dick  every  word  that  you 
told  me. 

Clarice.     Oh,  Edith  !    I'll  never  forgive 

Edith.  Yes,  you  will,  and  thank  me,  too  !  Well,  Dick  said, 
as  I  did,  that  there  was  some  mistake. 


BREEZY   POINT.  47 

Clarice.     I  don't  believe  it. 

Edith.  Well,  you'll  have  to  !  So  Dick  went  straight  back 
to  the  Adlrondacks  the  very  next  day.  Charlie  had  gone  from 
there,  and  he's  been  following  him  from  place  to  place,  until 
he  located  him  a  week  ago,  and  this  is  what  Dick  says. 

[  Takes  letter  from  envelope^ 

Clarice.     Oh,  Edith,  go  on  ! 

Edith.  Getting  a  little  nervous  yourself,  aren't  you,  Miss 
Placidity  ?  Well,  I  shan't  read  you  how  it  begins,  but  just 
what  concerns  you. 

Clarice.  Yes,  yes. 

Edith  {reading  letter).  "  Found  Grierson  to-day,  after 
chasing  him  all  over  the  country.     He's  more  deeply  in  love 

than  any  man  you  ever  saw,  except  one "    Oh,  dear,  I  didn't 

mean  to  read  that,  "  and  that  bouquet  business  caused  all  the 
trouble.  You  see  it  was  like  this.  Charlie  went  to  the  florist's 
and  ordered  two  boxes  of  flowers  ;  English  violets  for  his 
sister,  who  was  ill,  and  roses  for  Miss  Fenleigh.  The  mistake 
was,  of  course,  made  in  delivering  the  boxes.  I've  just  ex- 
plained matters  and  I  never  saw  a  happier  fellow  in  my  life. 
We  leave  here  to-day  and  shall  be  with  you  Thursday  evening." 
That's  to-night.  "  Don't  say  a  word  ;  Grierson  has  the  ring  in 
his  pocket  and  it's  a  sparkler  !  "  There,  I'm  not  going  to  read 
another  line.     Why  don't  you  speak  ? 

Clarice  {rises  and  walks  l.).  I  am  so  dazed,  dear,  that  I'm 
afraid  to  speak,  afraid  to  tell  you  how  happy  I  am,  for  fear  it 
is  not  real. 

Edith.  Well,  I  reckon,  you'll  find  it's  real  when  you  see 
him.     I  think  it's  the  jolliest  thing  I  ever  knew. 

Clarice  {arm  about  Edith).  And  you  did  all  this  for  me  ! 
Sent  your  sweetheart  away,  when  you  would  have  been  so 
happy  to  have  him  near  you,  and 

Edith.  If  he  hadn't  gone  I  should  never  have  cared  one 
bit  for  him,  never  ! 

Enter  Ashrael  c,  out  of  breath. 

AsHRAEL.  Miss  Dexter's  come  !  The  stage  is  at  the  door  ! 
Where's  Miss  Elinor  ? 

yExit  L.,  calling,  "  Miss  Elinor  J  Miss  Elinor  I  '* 

Enter  Aunt  Debby,  Bernice  and  Laura  c,  Bernice  carry- 
ing satchel,  wraps,  etc.,  Laura  box  and  umbrella.  Girls 
surround  her. 

Edith.     Oh,  Aunt  Debby,  you've  come  !  [Kisses  her, 

Clarice.     And  I'm  so  glad.     Do  stand  back,  Edith,  and  let 

me  have  a  chance  !  \Kisses  her. 


4.8  BREEZY   POINT. 

Laura.     Sit  right  down  here  and  let  us  take  your  things  off. 
\jrhey  seat  her  at  table  L.,  and  remove  her  bonnet, 
gloves,  etc. 

Aunt  Debby.     Be  careful  of  that  box,  Laura,  my  dear. 

Laura.     I've  put  it  over  on  the  table  there,  Aunt  Debby. 

Aunt  Debby.     How  good  you  all  are  !     But  where 's  Elinor  ? 
[Elinor  and  Ashrael  running  on  l. 

Elinor.  Here  I  am !  {Embracing  her.)  I  was  in  the 
garden  and  I  fairly  flew  to  get  here.  You  don't  know  how  I've 
missed  you.  Ashrael,  bring  a  glass  of  wine.  Aunt  Debby  looks 
tired.  (Ashrael  going.)  I  say,  Ashrael !  {Aside  to  her,) 
Do  not  tell  Aunt  Debby  that  Bridget  and  Jane  are  gone.  Wait 
until  she  rests  a  little.  {To  Clarice.)  Tell  the  girls  not  to 
mention  it. 

{Exit  Ashrael  l.;  Clarice  whispers  aside  to  Edith, 
Bernice  and  Laura. 

Aunt  Debby.  I  am  a  little  tired.  Travelling  is  new  busi- 
ness for  me.  How  good  it  was  of  you  girls  to  wait  for  my 
return  !     I'm  afraid  it  has  been  a  sad  inconvenience. 

Bernice.  Laura  and  I  could  stay  as  well  as  not,  and  I'm 
pretty  sure  Edith  and  Clarice  aren't  in  any  great  rush  to  get 
back  to  "Finikins." 

Edith  {mysteriously).     I'm  not  so  sure  we  shall  go  back. 

Bernice.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Edith.     Just  stand  back,  while  I  whisper  to  Aunt  Debby. 

[Pushing  girls  aside,  whispers  to  AUNT  Debby. 

Laura.     Well,  I  like  that!    What's  up,  Clarice  ? 

Clarice.     I — I  am  sure — I 

Edith.  Don't  ask  her,  but  to-night  {mysteriously)  when 
the  clock  strikes  twelve,  I  will  a  tale  unfold 

Enter  Ashrael  l.,  with  glass  of  wine. 

Ashrael.  This  will  put  some  life  into  you.  Miss  Dexter.  I 
tell  you  it  seems  good  to  see  you  again,  for,  somehow,  I  couldn't 
help  feelin'  that  a  burglar  had  broke  into  the  house  an*  carried 
everything  out  of  it.  And  now  I'm  jest  goin'  to  get  luncheon 
ready  for  you. 

Aunt  Debby  {drinks  wine).     Tell  Bridget 

Ashrael.  Oh,  never  mind  Bridget,  she's  tired  ;  I  can  do  it 
jest  as  well  as  she  can. 

{Exit  Ashrael  l.,  winking  at  girls. 

Aunt  Debby.  It's  worth  going  away  to  receive  such  a  wel- 
come as  this.  My  heart  was  very  heavy  when  I  left,  but 
now,  it's  lighter  than  it  has  been  for  years. 

Elinor.  Lean  back  in  your  chair,  Aunt  Debby,  and  don't 
try  to  talk  until  you  get  rested. 

Aunt  Debby.    I  cannot,  my  dear.    Why,  I  could  scarcely 


BREEZY   POINT.  49 

wait  until  I  got  here,  I  have  so  much  to  tell.  No,  I  cannot  rest 
until  I  have  unburdened  my  heart.  Sit  down,  my  dears. 
Elinor,  sit  here  at  my  feet.  (Bernice  and  Laura  sit  at  table 
R.,  Clarice  and  Edith  on  couch,  Elinor  at  Aunt  Debby's 
ftet.)  I'm  not  a  good  hand  at  telling  fairy-tales,  but  this 
sounds  so  much  like  one  that,  as  the  twins  say,  I've  felt  like 
pinching  myself  to  see  if  it  were  true. 

Bernice.  I  know  it's  something  nice,  for  Aunt  Debby  looks 
so  happy. 

Aunt  Debby.  One  summer  evening,  a  long  time  ago,  a 
lonely  old  maid  found  a  dear  little  baby,  in  a  basket,  at  her 
door.  She  took  the  little  one  to  her  heart  and  home,  without 
knowing  her  parentage.  Eighteen  years  later,  when  the  baby  had 
grown  to  be  a  young  woman,  and  the  sunshine  of  the  home  into 
which  she  had  come  so  strangely,  an  old  gipsy  woman  died, 
and  confessed  to  this  woman  that  she  had  stolen  this  child  from 
a  rich  family  in  St.  Louis,  because  they  had  driven  the  gipsies 
off  their  land. 

Elinor.     Oh,  Aunt  Debby  !       [Rises  and  stands  beside  her 

much  agitated. 

Aunt  Debby.  The  poor  old  maid  wanted  to  ascertain  if  the 
story  was  quite  true,  so  she  never  said  a  word,  but  started  to 
find  the  family  the  old  gipsy  had  told  her  of. 

Bernice.     Why,  Aunt  Debby,  that  was  you  ! 

Edith.     And  the  child  was 

Laura  and  Clarice.    Elinor  ! 

Elinor  (kneeling  by  Aunt  Debby).    Oh,  Aunt  Debby,  go  on  ! 

Aunt  Debby.  And  so  the  old  maid  went  to  St.  Louis  and 
found 

Elinor.    Yes  ? 

Aunt  Debby.  Found  the  father  !  (Elinor  kneels  and  buries 
face  on  Aunt  Debby's  shoulder.)  The  mother  had  been  dead 
ten  years.  {All  rise.)  Yes,  my  Elinor,  your  father  awaits  his 
child.  He  had  been  ill  and  was  not  strong  enough  to  come  to 
you,  but  he  is  longing  for  you  every  hour.  You  will  be  very 
proud  of  your  father,  Elinor,  for  you  are  the  daughter  of  the 
Honorable  Richard  Arlington,  whose  name  is  a  power  where 
he  is  known. 

Elinor  {throwing  arms  about  her  neck).  Oh,  Aunt  Debby, 
I  can  never  leave  you. 

Girls.     No,  indeed  ! 

Aunt  Debby.  The  sweetest  part  of  it  all  to  me  is  that  I  am 
to  go  with  my  little  girl,  to  stay  with  her  always. 

Elinor.     Oh,  Aunt  Debby,  is  it  true  ? 

Bernice.    Isn't  it  glorious  ? 

Clarice.     Better  than  any  fairy-tale  I  ever  heard  ! 

Edith.    Let  me  hug  you,  Elinor. 


50 


BREEZY    POINT. 


Girls.     Pass  her  round. 

[Edith   embraces   her  and  turns   her   once  around  into 

Clarice's  arms,  same  business  with  Laura  and  Ber- 

NICE  ;  girls  alllaughing,  saying,  "  My  turn  next ;  pass 

her  to  tne"  etc. 

Aunt  Debby  {giving  Elinor  box).     Your  father  sent  you 

these  flowers,  Elinor,  with  his  dearest  love. 

Girls.     Aren't  they  lovely.     [Elinor  sits  at  table  r.,  gazing 

at  flowers  lovingly. 
Laura.     Is  he  rich,  Aunt  Debby  } 
Aunt  Debby.     As  the  prince  in  the  fairy-tale  ! 
Bernice.     But,  Aunt  Debby,  what's  to  become  of  us  "i     We 
can't  come  to  Breezy  Point  again. 

Aunt  Debby.     This  will  be  my  summer  home  and  yours,  as 
long  as  you  wish  to  make  it  so. 
Bernice.    Glory ! 

Edith.    Three  cheers  for  Aunt  Debby  ! 
Laura.     And  Lady  Elinor  1 

Clarice.     And  dear  old 

Girls.     Breezy  Point ! 

[Aunt  Debby  back  of  Elinor's  chair,  r.,  Elinor  holds 
her  hands  about  her  neck,  looking  up  into  her  face  lov- 
ingly.    Chair  at  table  left,  swung  around  with  back 
facing  stage  centre.     Edith  kneeling  in  it,  facing  Clar- 
ice, who  holds  her  hands,  one  arm  about  her.  Bernice 
and  Laura  centre.    Pause  for  tableau  ;  then  a  noise  of 
wheels  outside    and  a   loud    masculine    voice   crying 
'«  Whoa,  whoa,  boy  /** 
Ashrael  {running  on  C).     Oh,  Miss  Bernice,  they  is  two 
young  men  jest  drove  up  in  a  buggy  an'  they're  comin'  in. 

[All  rise  and  turn  towards  door  c,  forming  picture. 
Bernice.    See  who  they  are,  Ashrael.  [Goes  l. 

Laura  {to  l.).     Yes,  hurry,  Ashrael. 

[Clarice  and  Edith  rise  and  come  c,  looking  up  stage  ; 

a  pause  of  suspense,  then — 

Ashrael  {running  in  c,  in  a  hoarse  whisper).     It's  Mr. 

Richard  Coleman  and  Mr.  Charles  Grierson.     {Looking  off ; 

aloud.)     This  way,  gentlemen. 

[General  expectancy  ;  justas  the  two  men  are  about  to  enter, 

CURTAIN. 


New  Plays 


MR.  EASYMAN'S  NIECE 

A  Farcical  Comedy  in  Four  Acts 

By  Belie  Marshall  Locke 

Six  males,  four  females.  Costumes  modern  ;  scenery,  two  interiors  and 
one  easy  exterior  that  may  be  played  indoors  if  desired.  Plays  a  full  even« 
ing.  A  clever  and  vivacious  play,  full  of  fun  and  action.  Mr.  Easyman't 
fad  of  spiritualism  leads  him  into  a  difficulty  that  is  a  source  of  endlesf 
amusement  to  the  audience.  Irish  and  old  maid  comedy  parts.  Can  b« 
recommended. 

Pricet  2S  cents 

CHARACTERS 

Mr.  Stephen  Easyman,  a  wealthy  Mr.  Sharpe,  a  detective. 

broker.  Miss  Judith  Carroll^  a  maidn 

Mr.  Carew  Carlton, his  nephew.       aunt. 
Mr.  Tom  Ashleigh.  Mrs.  Easyman,  )     her 

Jackson,  a  servant.  Miss  Bessie  Carroll,  j  nieces* 

Michael  Flynn.  Desdemona,  the  ghost* 


A  PAIR  OF  BURGLARS 

By  Byron  P.  Glenn 

Two  males,  two  females.  One  act.  Costumes  modern ;  scenery,  an 
easy  interior.  Plays  half  an  hour.  A  brisk  little  curtain  raiser  of  the 
**  vaudeville  "  type,  moving  all  the  time.  Easy  and  effective ;  all  the  partt 
young  people  and  well-dressed.     Strongly  recommended. 

Price,  IS  cents 

DANE'S  DRESS-SUIT  CASE 

By  Robert  C.  V,  Meyers 

Two  males,  one  female.  One  act.  Costumes  modern ;  scene,  an  fXf 
interior.  Plays  fifteen  minntes.  An  excellent  short  play  to  fill  out  a  biH 
or  to  fill  in  an  intermission.  All  action  and  lots  of  fun.  All  parts  yaxmn 
and  well-dressed. 

Price,  //  cents 


New  Plays 


THE    TIME    OF    HIS    LIFE 

A  Comedy  in  Three  Acts 

By  C,  Leona  Dalrympk 
Six  males,  three  females.  Costumes  modern  ;  scenery,  two  interiors, 
or  can  be  played  in  one.  Plays  two  hours  and  a  half.  A  side-splitting 
piece,  full  of  action  and  a  sure  success  if  competently  acted.  Tom  Car- 
ter's little  joke  of  impersonating  the  colored  butler  has  unexpected  con- 
sequences that  give  him  "the  time  of  his  life."  Very  highly  recom 
mended  for  High  School  performance. 

Price^  2^  cents 

CHARACTERS 
Mr.  Bob  Grey. 
Mrs.  Bob  Grey. 

Tom  Carter,  Mrs,  Grey's  brother. 
Mrs.  Peter  Wycombe,  a  "  personage.'^ 
Mr.  Peter  Wycombe,  a  "  pessimist  "  with  a  digestion^ 
Dorothy  Landon,  secretly  engaged  to  Tom  Carter, 
Mr.  James  Landon,  Sr.,  Dorothfs  father  ;  of  a  peppery  dispMifm* 
Uncle  Tom,  an  old  colored  butler  from  the  South, 
OmcER  Hogan,  of  the  Twenty- Second  Street  Police  Statt4n-^ 

EETHER   OR   EYTHER 
A  Farce  in  One  Act 

By  Robert  C.  F.  Meyers 
Four  males,  four  females.    Costumes  modern ;  scene,  an  interior.    Plaw* 
thirty  minutes.     A  clever  parlor  play,  similar  in  idea  to  the  popular  *«  Ob- 
*inate  Family.**    Sure  to  please. 

Price f  75  cents 

THE  MORNING  AFTER  THE  PLAY 
A  Comedy  in  One  Act 

By  Willis  Steell 
Two  males,  three   females.     Costumes  modern;    scene,  an   interior. 
Plays  twenty  minutes.     An  easy  piece  of  strong  dramatic  interest,  orig' 
inallv  produced   in  Vaudeville  by  Christy  Clifford.     Free   to  amateurs | 
loyalty  required  for  professional  performance. 

Price,  7f  cents 


New  Plays 


THE  VILLAGE  SCHOOL  MA'AM 

A  Play  in  Three  Acts 

By  Arthur  Lewis  Tubbs 

Author  of  •*  Valley  Farm,''  «  Willowdale^'  "  The  Country  Minister J^ 
"  The  Penalty  of  Pride,''  "Miss  Buzby's  Boarders,"  etc. 

Six  males,  five  females.  Costumes  modern  ;  scenes  an  interior  and  eq 
exterior,  or  can  be  played  in  two  interiors.  Plays  two  hours  or  more. 
An  excellent  comedy-drama,  combining  a  strongly  sympathetic  dramatic 
interest  with  an  unusual  abundance  of  genuine  and  unforced  comedy. 
The  parts  are  unusually  equal  in  point  of  interest  and  opportunity,  are 
genuine  types  of  rural  character,  truly  and  vigorously  drawn  and  easily 
actable.  No  dialect  parts,  but  plenty  of  variety  in  the  comedy  rdles  and 
lots  of  amusing  incident.  An  exceptionally  entertaining  piece,  full  of  move- 
ment and  action,  and  without  a  dull  moment.  Can  be  strongly  recommended. 
Price  2S  cents 

CHARACTERS 

Richard  Elliot,  storekeeper  and  postmaster* 

James  B.  Graham,  a  commercial  traveller* 

Rev.  Mr.  Flick,  the  village  parson. 

HosKA  Clegg,  who  belongs  to  the  G.  A.  R, 

Sam  Alcott,  who  hcts  a  more  than  better  half. 

Tad,  just  a  boy. 

Sylvia  Lennox,  the  village  school-ma'am. 

Ida  May  Alcott,  who  has  had  advantages. 

Mrs.  ^\.C0TT,  her  proud  mamma — somewhat  forgetful* 

Elvira  Pratt,  a  dressmaker. 

POSIE,  who  was  born  tired. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act  I. — In  front  of  the  store  and  post-office  on  a  morning  in  August. 

Act  II. — Same  as  Act  I,  the  middle  of  the  same  afternoon.  If  more 
convenient,  these  two  acts  may  be  played  as  an  interior  scene  with  very 
few  changes  of  "  business  "  and  dialogue,  the  stage  being  set  in  that  case 
as  the  inside  of  the  store,  with  counter,  post-office  boxes,  etc. 

Act  III — The  home  of  the  Alcotts,  three  days  later. 

THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  AMBITION 

A  Drama  in  One  Act 

By  Mariejosephine  Warren 
Three  males,  one  female.     Scene,  an  interior ;  costumes  modern.   Playt 
twenty  minutes.    A  sketch  of  compelling  dramatic  interest  by  the  authw 
of  «« The  Elopement  of  Ellen."    A  serious  piece  of  high  class  that  caa 
V  vecoauaended.  Price  /j  cents. 


New  Farces  and  Comedies 

GADSBY'S     GIRLS 
A  Farce  in  Three  Acts 

By  Bertha  Currier  Porter 
Five  males,  four  females.  Costumes  modern  ;  scenery,  an  exterior  and 
an  interior.  Plays  an  hour  and  a  half.  An  exceptionally  bright  and 
vivacious  little  piece,  full  of  action.  The  irrepressible  Gadsby's  adven- 
tures with  the  fiancees  of  three  of  his  friends  are  full  of  interest  and  fun. 
A.11  the  parts  good.  Well  suited  for  High  School  performance. 
Fricgf  25  cents 

CHARACTERS 

Richard  Stanley,  a  lawyer. 

Joseph  Parker,  a  clerk. 

Morris  Young,  a  medical  student. 

Steve,  the  farm  boy.     Friendly,  hut  not  loquacious. 

Mabel  Parkius,  frivolous  and  dressy  ;  engaged  to  Richard. 

Esther  Carroll,  botanical  and  birdy  ;  engaged  to  Joseph, 

Grace  Qhe^tev^,  just  girl ;  engaged  to  Morris, 

Mrs.  Dodge,  who  takes  boarders. 

Maximilian  Hunnewell  Gadsby,  a  butterfly, 

THE  GIRL  WHO  PAID  THE  BILLS 
A  Comedy  in  One  Act 

By  Nina  Rhoades 
Two  males,  four  females.     Costumes  modern ;  scene,  an  easy  interior. 
Plays  thirty-five  minutes.     A  clever  piece  of  high  class,  admirably  written 
and  suited  to  the  best  taste.    A  pretty  little  love  story,  wholesome  and  un- 
icntimental  in  tone.    Well  recommended. 

Price t  75  cents 

THE  FIFTH  COMMANDMENT 

A  Play  in  One  Act 

By  Willis  Steell 
Three    males,  one  female.      Costumes  modern;    scene,  an  interior. 
Plays  twenty  minutes.     An  easy  piece  of  strong  dramatic  interest,  origi- 
nally produced  in  Vaudeville  by  Julius  Steger.    Free  to  amateurs  j  royalty 
required  for  professional  performance. 

Price f  75  cents 


THE  SUFFRAGETTES'  CONVENTION 

An  Entertainment  in  One  Scene 

By  Jessie  A.  Kelley 

One  male,  twelve  females.     Costumes,  modern  and  eccentric  ;  scenery, 

unimportant.     Plays  an  hour  and  a  quarter.     Another  of  Mrs.  Kelley's 

popular  assemblages  of  the  floating  humor  of  the  Suffragette  question. 

Just  a  string  of  humorous  lines  and  characters  and  local  hits  aimed  to  raise 

a  hearty  laugh  without  hurting  anybody's  feelings.     Suited  for  women's 

clubs  and  for  general  use  in  private  theatricals. 

Price,  2 J  cents 

CHARACTERS 
Mrs.  John  Yates,  presiding  officer. 
Mrs.  Silas  Curtis,  suffragette  speaker. 
Mrs.  Eben  Altman,  suffragette  speaker, 
Mrs.  Eldon  Keener,  anti- suffragette. 
Mrs.  Oscar  Dayton,  anti-suffragette. 
Mrs.  Jonas  Harding,  anti-suffragette. 
Miss  Rosabelle  Hyacinth,  engaged. 
Miss  Priscilla  Prudence,  would  like  to  be  engaged* 
Miss  Anna  Helder,  great  on  style. 
Mrs.  Charles  Bates,  anti- suffragette, 
Mrs.  Russell  Sager,  suffragette. 
Mrs.  Francis  Wood,  suffragette. 
Silas  Curtis,  who  becomes  an  ardent  advocate  of  woman  suffrage^ 

THE  QUEEN  OF  HEARTS 

A  High  School  Comedy  in  One  Act 
By  Gladys  Ruth  Bridgham 
Three  males,  three  females.  Costumes,  modern ;  scenery,  a  single  in- 
terior. Plays  one  hour.  Three  seminary  girls  go  to  the  masquerade  on 
the  sly,  get  mixed  up  there  with  some  students  and  have  a  narrow  escape 
from  detection.  Their  later  anxieties  are  complicated  by  the  fact  that  they 
discover  that  one  of  the  younger  members  of  their  own  faculty  was  also 
there  ;  but  this  later  suggests  a  plan  by  which  they  escape.  Very  bright 
and  breezy  and  full  of  fun  and  action. 

Price,  15  cents 

LOOK  OUT  FOR  PAINT 

A  Farce  Comedy  in  Three  Acts 

By  Cornelius  Shea 

Five  males,  four  females.    Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery,  one  interior  and 

one  exterior.     Plays  an  hour  and  a  half.     An  elderly  maiden,  making  a 

"flash  "  at  a  summer  boarding-house,  runs  into  a  young  artist  with  whom 

she  has  corresponded  through  a  matrimonial  bureau.     He  is  an  admirer  of 

the  landlady's  daughter  and  tells  her  the  facts  before  the  lady  has  seen 

him.     She  induces  Reamer,  a  tramp  house-painter,  to  exchange  identities 

with  his  fellow  artist  with  side-splitting  results.     A  capital  piece,  full  of 

humor  and  very  easy.     Recommended  for  schools. 

Price,  2^  cents 


New  Plays 


THE  COLONEL'S  MAID 

A  Comedy  in  Three  Acts 

By  C.  Leona  Dalrymple 

Author  of**The  Time  of  His  Life,"  "The  Land  of  Night, ^*  etc. 

Six  males,  three  females.  Costumes,  modern ;  scenery,  two  interiors. 
Plays  a  full  evening.  An  exceptionally  bright  and  amusing  comedy,  full 
of  action ;  all  the  parts  good.  Capital  Chinese  low  comedy  part ;  two 
first-class  old  men.  This  is  a  very  exceptional  piece  and  can  be  strongly 
recommended.  Price^  2j  cents 

CHARACTERS 


mortally  antagonistic. 


Colonel  Robert  Rudd,  a  widower  of ' 

North  Carolina 
Colonel  Richard  Byrd,  a  widower 

of  South  Carolina 

BOB^RUDD  ^^^^  1   ^^^  ^^  antagonistic  as  their  respective  fathers, 
Mrs.  J.  John  Carroll,  a  widow,  and  Colonel  Rudd's  sister' 

in  law. 
Julia  Carroll,  her  daughter. 

Ned  Graydon,  a  young  gentleman  of  exceedingly  faulty  memoty. 
Mr.  James  Baskom,  Colonel  Rudd  s  lawyer. 
Ching-ah-ling,  the  Chinese  cook,  a  bit  impertinent  but  byfarth* 
most  important  individual  in  the  cast. 
SYNOPSIS 
Act  I.— Early  morning  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Rudd  bachelor 
establishment. 
Act  II. — The  Rudd  Ubrary,  five  days  later. 
Act  III. — The  same.    Evening  of  the  same  day. 

BREAKING  THE  ENGAGEMENT 

A  Farce  in  One  Act 

By  W,  C.  Parker 

Two  males,  one  female.   Costumes,  modern  ;  scene,  an  interior.     Playi 

twenty  minutes.     A  quick  playing  little  piece  suitable  for  vaudeville  use. 

Very  bright  and  snappy  and  strongly  recommended. 

Price,  J5  cents 

A  PAPER  MATCH 

A  Farce  in  One  Act 
By  E.  W,  Burt,  M.  D. 
Two  males,  two  females.     Costumes,  modern  ;  scene,  an  interior.   Plays 
thirty-five  minutes.     Four  rustic  characters,  all  good.     The  heroine  ad- 
vertises for  a  husband  and  gets  her  aunt's  old  beau  to  their  mutual  horror. 
Very  funny,  easy  and  effective.         Price,  ij  cents 


Jl*  m*  Pfnero's  Plays 

Price,  50  0etit$  €acb 

mAirv  pLIAMlMPf  Pl«iy  i"  Four  Acts.  Six  males,  five  females. 
iTllLf'V'n/l.lliilliLt  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  three  interiors. 
Plays  two  and  a  half  hours. 

THE  NOTORIOUS  MRS.  EBBSMITH  S^r^'Si^^h"? 

males,  five  females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  all  interiors. 
Plays  a  full  evening. 

THF  PRHFTir'ATF  Playin  Four  Acts.  Seven  males,  five 
inC  IIVWrLilVIrtlEi  females.  Scenery,  three  interiors,  rather 
elaborate  ;  costumes,  modern.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUr  Cmnni  MTQTDirCQ  Farce  in  Three  Acts.  Ninemalea, 
lIlEi  OV/ntFULimolJ\£ii30  seven  females.  Costumes,  mod- 
em; scenery,  three  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THE  SECOND  MRS.  TANQUERAY  ia/"IX,*S'v'a 

females.  Costumes,  modern;  scenery,  three  interiors.  Plays  a 
full  evening. 

QWPFT  I  AVFlSinFR  Comedy  in  Three  Acts.  Seven  males, 
OtTEiCiI  Lia  V£iiiLf£iA.  four  females.  Scene,  a  single  interior, 
costumes,  modern.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

TUI7  TUITMnrDDni  T  Comedy  in  Four  Acts.  Ten  males, 
inEi  inUilUlLIVDV/Ll  nine  females.  Scenery,  three  interi- 
ors; costumes,  modern.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

THF  TIMFQ  Comedy  in  Four  Acts.  Six  males,  seven  females. 
inCi  lliTl£ikJ  Scene. a  single  interior;  costumes, modern.  Plays 
SI  full  evening. 

THF  WFAITFR  ^FY  Comedy  in  Three  Acts.  Eight  males, 
Iil£i  TT  £iXlI\£iI\  u£iA  eight  females.  Costumes,  modern; 
scenery,  two  interiors.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

A  WIFE  WITHOUT  A  SMILE  gr/*l,S.f??rf:mt?a: 

Costumes,  modern ;  scene,  a  single  interior.    Plays  a  full  evening. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Salter  ?^.  Pafeer  Sc  Companp 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 


%ttmt  popular  ^la^s 


THE  AWiUFNINIi  Play  in  Four  Acts.  By  C.  H.  Chambers. 
I  lie  ATI  AHLlllllu  tour  males,  six  females.  Scenery,  not  diffi- 
cult, clii'^tly  interiors ;  costumes,  modern.  Plays  a  full  evening. 
Price,  50  Cents.  v  <;", 

THE  FRUITS  OF  ENLIGHTENMENT  |°T-/o.toI"  t -4uy: 

one  males,  eleven  females.  Scenery,  c?  aracteristic  interiors;  cos- 
tumes, inoderu.  Plays  a  fuU..eveuiig,  i.lgCommended  for  reading 
clubs.     Price,  35  Cents.  ^      \.. 

HIS  EXCELLENCY  THE  GOVERNCR  irSfi1,Ii;^;f,r'^T?2 

males,  tlire.;  females.  Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery,  one  interior. 
Acting  rights  reserved.     Tiihe,  a  full  evening.     Price,  50  Cents. 

AN  inCAf  HIICRAKin  Comedv  in  Four  Acts.  ByOscAuWlLBE. 
All  lUCALf  UliJDAWll  Mine  niales,  six  females.  Costumes,  mod- 
ern ;  scenery,  three  interiors.  Plays  a  full  evening.  Acting  rights 
reserved.     Hold  for  reading.     Price,  50  Cents. 

THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  BEING  EARNEST  5sr  i"  S«"b 

Wilde  Five  males,  four  females.  Costumes,  modern  ;  scenes,  two 
interiors  and  an  exterior.  Plays  a  full  evening.  Acting  rights  re- 
served.    Price,  50  Cents. 

LADY  WINDERMERE'S  FAN  '^'^'"i^^.J'iS^il 

males.  Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery,  three  interiors.  Plays  a  full 
evening.    Acting  rights  reserved.    Price,  50  Cents. 

NATHAN  HAI  P  Play  in  Four  Acts.  By  Clyde  P'itch.  Fifteen 
l^Al  UAil  IIALL;  males,  four  females.  Costumes  of  the  eighteenth 
century  in  America.  Scenery,  four  interiors  and  two  exteriors.  Act- 
ing rights  reserved.     Plays  <i  full  evening.    Price,  50  Cents. 

THE  ATHCD  CCI!  HW  Comedy  in  Three  Acts.  ByM.  B.  Hokne. 
inC  UlllCil  rElvlyVlT  Six  males,  four  females.  Scenery,  two 
interiors ;  costumes,  modern.  Professional  stage  i  ights  reserved. 
Plays  a  full  evening.     Price,  50  Cents. 

THE  TYRANNY  OF  TEARS  ^^^JS.'rZ'^e.^^.'i .": 

males  Scenery,  an  interior  and  an  exterior;  costumes,  modern. 
Acting  rights  reserved.     Plays  a  full  evening.    Price,  50  Cents. 

A  WOMAN  OF  NO  IMPORTANCE  g™rK\i"„ST;i^Mf,;aS 

seven  females.  Costumes,  modern  ;  scenery,  three  interiors  and  an 
exterior.  Plays  a  full  evening.  Stage  rights  reserved.  Offered  for 
reading  only.  T  Price,  50  Cents. 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price  by 

Walttv  i^.  TSafecr  &  Company 

No.  5  Hamilton  Place,  Boston,  Massachusetts 

8.    •      "ARKHILL  A.   CO.,     PRINTERS.     BOSTON. 


Binder 
Gaylord  Bros.,  Inc. 

Stockton,  Calif. 
T.M.  Reg.  U.S.  Pat.  Off. 


YB  31757 


M  8960 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


